


Staff of the Hierophant

by Waking_Dreamland



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: 74000k words, Adventure, F/M, Finished, Guardians of the Galaxy - Freeform, Marvel - Freeform, My First Fanfic, NSFW, Plot, Rocket x Gamora, Rocket/Gamora - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:39:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 71,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waking_Dreamland/pseuds/Waking_Dreamland
Summary: While the Guardians are on a mission to recover pieces of an artifact to power a very dangerous vessel, Rocket and Gamora take the first steps toward a romantic relationship.





	1. Staff of the Hierophant #1

"If we're gonna get into the vaults, I need that chick's prosthetic hand," Rocket commented with utter seriousness, gesturing with one paw down at a blonde strolling across the square.

"You do not." Gamora didn't even bother to glance at the woman below, busy observing the museum through binoculars. There was too much information coming in from the sensors on the device for her to pay any heed to Rocket's obsession with acquiring mechanical body parts.

"I do too!" His protest was spoiled by the snickers that hissed through sharp white teeth. "It's absolutely essential if we're gonna get that doohickey Peter says is here!"

Now Gamora took the time to look over at the rowdy raccoon, expression droll and bland.

"Aw. You're no fun, you know that?" Rocket heaved a put-upon sigh and continued to fiddle with the components of something he claimed was a code-breaker, an essential item for getting past the vault doors within the museum. "What's this thing for, anyway?"

"The Staff of the Hierophant is the "doohickey" you refer to," the green-skinned woman replied with the barest hint of wry humor in her voice. "And Peter thinks there's only one piece of it here. He says it's a key, a power source to turn on that Dyson Sphere we passed last week."

"So what? There's Dyson Spheres all over the place. And that one was inert; it's got no spin so it's got no gravity; it's got no power so it's got no life support. What's he want with it, a moon-sized bowling ball?" Fuzzy ears twitched up as the pieces he was working with settled into place with a metallic click. A sly grin showed on his muzzle once he noticed Gamora was back to observing the tall spire of a building now, and he tucked the little device into a pocket of his jumpsuit.

Gamora snorted with a touch of amusement, hunkering down a little more so her elbows would stay steady on the rim of the older building whose roof they'd chosen as their lookout spot. It would have made an amazing sniper roost; the view of the busy square was perfect, and they had enough range to not be spotted. Too bad this job called for stealth and caution; it said something about the Guardians that Rocket qualified for "stealth and caution" more than the rest of the group. "Mm. This particular Sphere is ancient, apparently, and you know how he gets about old things." A little grin curved dark green lips. "Besides, he says it's full of weapons."

"Oh reeeealy." The raccoon perked up, fluffy tail swishing with sudden interest in the doohickey in question. "What kind of weapons?"

"All kinds, according to Peter. Apparently the Sphere served as a showroom for a race that was essentially all weapon merchants. Dangerous items in there, and plenty of plans and schematics for even worse. So we've got to get it before anyone else does."

"Uh...huh. And is there a plan for where we're going to secure a hollow metal ball the size of a smallish moon? Heck, not even a plan. I'd take a notion. A stray thought. Something. Because I don't think there's room for that on the ship." Shiny black eyes rolled, the gesture accompanied by whiskers slicking back a little, giving Rocket a long-suffering expression.

Gamora pushed red-tipped brown hair away from her face and set the binoculars down, finally content that she'd gotten as much information for the building layout as she could. Pity the device wouldn't transmit the guard patrol schedule, but that's where improvising came in. "I think he plans on making that Nova's problem."

"How long do you think it'll be before they get tired of us dropping off weird and dangerous shit?"

"I am fairly sure a weaponized and weapon-filled mobile Dyson Sphere is going to warrant a stern lecture." Gamora was a little surprised that such hadn't occurred yet; since the incidents with the Stone, the Guardians had made a habit of dropping off whatever horrible hazards they found, and while there hadn't been a large number of such things, Nova Corps only had so much storage space. She had no idea where they were going to put something as large as a Dyson Sphere either. Maybe they'd just make another moon out of it. "Come on, let's go take the tour."

Rocket stared up at Gamora as she stood, tall and slim and elegant in the snug black jumpsuit. His expression was pitiable, ears drooped out to either side, whiskers slack, the white markings above his black mask of fur turned upward. "But... that's so boring."

Gamora chuckled, the sound warm and pleasant, and shook her head. "Just think of it as a test run."

* * *

Rocket was right. The museum tour was remarkably boring. This planet had diverse races and a rich history, and somehow the curators made it all seem like a mindless drone of information. But they'd gotten to see what it was they were looking for.

Or at least, they'd gotten to see a display piece that mimicked it. While there, looking at the doohickey, Rocket had given it a quick scan and verified that it was merely a model of what the completed staff should look like. And despite the often melodramatic naming conventions so many cultures seemed to have, it really was a staff. Oh, it was a staff made up of cylindrical data chips fastened together with the gem-like sphere of the energy core topping it, but still, it was a staff. The actual authentic piece that the museum had was stored in the vault, and they still weren't sure which piece it was. Rocket had misgivings that the pieces might actually be all the individual data cylinders and therefore this quest to gather up the staff was going to occupy a few years of their time.

By the time they departed from the tour group --a number of families and individuals about whom Rocket had something snarky to say in every case-- they'd gotten a walk-through of the layout and observed the guards. The guards had observed right back; so much for the hope that they'd be lazy rent-a-guards who would be easy to circumvent. And they were also heavily armed. It was a shame that the thing they wanted was stored in the same building as surprising riches; the guards were there to keep those things secure, and they looked like they knew their jobs well.

"Now what?" Rocket stood fidgeting with yet another batch of wires and blinking lights and scraps of metal, clever paws piecing things together without him even having to look at what he was doing. His gaze was focused on Gamora, who sat on the step beside him, putting them at about even heights. 

"Now we wait. And we hope that the night guards are a little less prepared."

* * *

Getting into the building had posed no true difficulties for the pair, though it had taken about an hour of climbing to get mid-way up the spire and into an unsecured window. Another hour was taken up in making their way down from there to the basement, dodging guard patrols with irritating regularity. Finally, they'd made it to the office door, within which was the vault door, and within that --one devoutly hoped-- was the piece of the Staff they were after.

Gamora stared, dumbfounded, at what dangled from a strip of metal on the door. Of all the security measures she'd anticipated being in place, a solid padlock had not been on the list. Her gusty sigh made her opinion on the matter clear and she started mentally ticking off ways to get past the lock that wouldn't alert any of the guards. It had to be quiet, had to not break anything. Slowly, dark eyes shifted toward the massive gun on Rocket's back; surely a couple of firing pins from that metal monstrosity would function as lock-picks. "Let me see the big gun."

Rocket had been eyeing the lock as well, fingers twitching, eager to mess with the shiny chunk of metal. At Gamora's statement, fuzzy ears popped up as he realized what she had in mind. But he wasn't about to let her disassemble the absurdly powerful firearm; nimble paws went into the front pockets of his pants instead, searching around for the little leather folder that held the lock-pick kit he so rarely got to use.

"Not THAT 'gun'!" Gamora sounded startled and aghast that Rocket would make a gesture so crude. And in the middle of a job, too!

Rocket froze in place, ringed tail stiffened with the beginnings of alarm, though that quickly faded. Realization made black eyes slowly widen until they shone amid darkened fur and his jaw dropped enough to show hints of sharp white teeth. Slowly, one paw was withdrawn from his pants; he flipped open the little leather folder to let the dim ambient light shine on the fine and varied picks within. After staring up at her for a long moment, the raccoon had to clamp his jaws shut tightly to muffle bursts of laughter so that they only came out in soft hisses.

Gamora felt the prickling heat of a blush turning her cheeks a darker green; why had she even had that thought? Rocket was crude, to be sure, but he'd never aimed that sort of inappropriateness her way. She sighed heavily and stared at him with a look of patience only slightly spoiled by her blush, waiting for him to stop cackling so hard his shoulders shook.

It took a few minutes.

Still stifling snickers, Rocket ducked in front of the flustered Gamora to start picking the lock. His paws had itched to have at it; he rarely got to test these particular skills. While he worked the picks absentmindedly to the reward of occasional clicking sounds as a tumbler dropped, he wondered what made the woman behind him jump to that particular conclusion. He'd been laughing from shock as much as amusement, and now he just wanted to needle her about it. "Didn't know you had such an interest in my- aha!" Fortunately for Rocket, whatever he'd been about to say was cut off as the final tumbler dropped and the lock unfastened. Bouncing a bit with adrenaline-fueled excitement, he slipped the lock from the latch and carefully opened the door, peering inside. 

There was the vault. The digital panel beside it held a number pad to put in a complex code, and Rocket scampered forward to stick the device he'd been working on earlier onto the panel.

"...is that a bomb?" Gamora, having gotten over her flustered moments, made her graceful way into the office, glancing over it to make sure there wasn't anything else in here to give them any trouble.

"No," Rocket lied.

"We've talked about stealth, Rocket. No blowing anything up."

Tail, ears, and whiskers all drooped with disappointment, though he snickered again through pointed teeth as the device started solving and inputting the code for the locking mechanism. For a bomb, it was awfully good at breaking code.

Satisfied that the bomb wasn't going to be going off any time soon --unless the numbers it was decoding served as a sort of macabre countdown-- Gamora placed her hands on the steel wheel that would need to be turned once the code was broken. When the machine beeped in a cheerful major key, she gave the wheel a spin and let the vault door hiss open. She and Rocket stared with tense excitement as the treasures were revealed...

Treasures made mostly of paperwork, apparently. "Ugh." The groan came from both of them, and both walked in with resignation in their postures. Stacks and stacks of filing boxes filled the room, but as they made their way through the stacks, glints of shiny things beckoned them onward. Finally, at the back of the room they found the secure display cases that held the "real deal" stuff from the museum. A few pieces of priceless jewelry, which had Rocket's attention for a moment, some ancient scrolls that couldn't be displayed lest they crumble, and finally, a data cylinder.

It sat on a little pretentious pillow, the metal dull and dark, looking not remotely worthy of the velvet it was nestled in, much less inclusion in the vault. But there it was. "Over here," whispered Gamora. There should have been no need for the quiet voice, but the vault seemed to demand it. Besides, they'd already gone through a big chunk of the time they had before guards were due to show up. Rocket made barely any sound as he wove his way through the vault's contents, rising up on tiptoe to peer into the glass case. "Whatcha think? Smash and grab?"

"Surely there is a quieter way to go about this, Rocket." Gamora spoke as one who didn't believe what she was saying, but was simply hopeful.

"I mean... I guess we could just lift it."

Both of them turned their gaze to the glass cube containing the pillow and their prize, wondering why that hadn't been the first thought.

Rocket bowed deeply with a sardonic grin, one arm sweeping toward the case, and Gamora rolled her eyes before stepping forward and placing one hand on either side. With a bit of effort, she lifted, then paused. Both of them held perfectly still as they listened for any hints that alarms had been tripped, neither of them so much as breathing. After a few moments passed, Rocket reached up to snatch the cylinder from the pillow in one paw. That's when the alarms started blaring.

* * *

"Behind you!"

The ship lurched to the side as Rocket dodged incoming fire from the single-man guard fighters that pursued them through the planet's atmosphere, making him bare his teeth in a snarl. That snarl had been plastered there from the first shots fired in the museum, and quite a few shots had been verbal. Of course, Rocket's favorite retort came in laser form.

Those guards had really pissed him off. If he hated anything, it was being referred to as "vermin". It stung so much because he knew it was true. Nothing more than a jumped-up rodent. All his intellect, all his tactics, all his skills, and they meant nothing to others because of what he was. It infuriated him beyond telling even as it filled him with misery. There truly was no thing like him, but him. It made for a lonely universe.

Gamora sat in the co-pilot's seat of the ship they'd inadvertently stolen on the way out. They hadn't had much choice; their own ride had guards swarming all over it, so they took one of the ships that had been parked nearby. It was a fairly nice vessel, as far as it went, though a little cramped and completely lacking in weaponry.

Of course, give Rocket ten minutes alone with it and it would be bristling with firearms and bombs that hadn't previously existed.

She had to admire her team mate's abilities. He could cobble together a viable weapon from scrap just as easily as he could cobble together a viable plan from stray and dangerous notions. He managed to be deadly even with weapons bigger than he was, and he could come up with outside-the-box tactics quicker than she could draw her blade. And yet, he could be taken down by a few simple words.

It irked Gamora, the way people treated her friend. All they saw was the outside, the raccoon in a jumpsuit, without caring much about anything beyond that. She could sympathize; plenty of people only cared about her appearance as well. But it was different for Rocket; he'd be wounded by those stinging words more than by a grazing bullet. She felt for him. Once they were safely away, she'd find something to take his mind off the taunts and insults and mockery that the now-dead guards had been flinging so casually.

* * *

Rocket's expert --and often terrifying-- piloting had let them evade the guard fighters and they'd shaken off pursuit by ducking into an asteroid belt. That had been more than enough excitement for Gamora; the number of times they'd nearly grazed one of the crater-marked rocks had her gripping the arms of the co-pilot's seat so hard her knuckles got pale. 

Now they drifted lazily. There was a big wide expanse of absolutely nothing between their current location and their destination, a deserted planetoid that the Guardians used as a rendezvous point on occasion. Rocket had put the ship on autopilot and was now quite literally staring out into space. It seemed his bleak mood had stuck with him even through the joys of bouncing through an asteroid field.

Gamora got up out of her chair and stretched away the cramps of having been seated stiffly for so long, not noticing the speculative glance cast her way by the morose raccoon. She turned to exit the cockpit, ducking under the low door-frame so she could investigate just exactly what all they'd managed to steal along with the ship.

It was a fairly sleek and streamlined craft, meant for no more than two people. Gamora popped the hatch to the lower deck and slid down the ladder with ease. Exploring was hardly needed down here; there were only two rooms. One was the bunk that contained a single bed and a small nightstand, the other was a cargo hold that contained floor-to-ceiling booze. Boxes were filled with bottles of exotic liquors from all over the quadrant and beyond; the proper owner of the ship was either a dealer, a smuggler, or had a serious drinking problem. But one man's problem is another man's solution; this might take Rocket's mind off of the stings he was suffering.

"Hey Rocket! Come down and take a look at this," Gamora called. 

A moment later saw a ringed fluffy tail drop down through the hatch, followed by the rest of Rocket. "Yowza. That's a lot of merchandise! We can probably fetch a good price on the right planet."

"We should test the quality first," Gamora responded smoothly, a small smile curving her lips at how animated the find made her furry friend. "Just to be certain that it is worth selling, yes?"

Rocket turned slowly away from his prizes of shiny multicolored bottles to eye Gamora, hints of confusion showing in the twitch of his whiskers and the swish of his tail. Normally, he wouldn't have thought much of the proposition, but after her earlier assumption that day, he had to wonder... nah. Couldn't be. Pity, though, he thought to himself as he watched the green-skinned woman. Every move she made was graceful and economical, no wasted energy. Even standing still, she resembled a statue... or a set bomb; he knew how she could explode into motion at the merest breath of needed violence. It was something to admire about her, even though she probably wasn't thrilled by it herself, given how she acquired such speed and strength.

"So ya wanna have a drinking contest, huh? I'd offer to place bets, but that would be terribly unfair to you," he said with a sly grin. 

"You believe you can out-drink me?" Gamora smirked down at him after briefly pretending to be offended.

"Okay, greenie. Ya wanna play? Winner takes the bunk for the night! Loser gets to sleep with the booze." For Rocket, that was a win-win anyway; he could curl up to sleep just about anywhere. 

"Done!" Gamora sat down on one of the boxes and pulled out a bottle at random. The dark glass bottle shone with colors like an oil slick; if it was as strong as it appeared to be expensive, they were in for a quick contest.

* * *

Drink by drink, the world grew warm and hazy. Rocket couldn't quite remember what had him so upset earlier; it was as if those wounds had been treated with a good painkiller --either the booze, or the company.

They'd talked for a while about the taunts, and Rocket knew she understood why they stung so deeply, why they fed his insecurities. And he found, to his own surprise, that he didn't mind her knowing about those insecurities. She had her own, and she was willing to share them with him just as he shared his with her; reluctantly, but with relief. A burden shared was a burden halved, and he knew he could trust her with pieces of his past.

Such topics only stayed around a short while until the alcohol took them more amusing places. Swapped stories of bungled adventures and tales of heroics --or avoidance thereof-- took the place of more somber things, and laughter filled the cargo hold.

"He did -not-!" Rocket slapped his thigh as he laughed, whiskers twitching, wide eyes focused at the casually lounging Gamora.

"No, truly, he did!" She spoke around her own laughter, shaking her head so that a lock of crimson-tipped brunette hair fell over one side of her face. "He actually said he was too tall for me to fight. Like he thought there was a rule about it!"

Rocket snickered, hissing between pointed teeth. Without thinking about it, he leaned forward and reached out to brush the hair out of her face. "Guess I'm safe by those rules; I'm too short for you!"

Gamora blinked, train of thought switching tracks with the abruptness of the thoroughly drunk. "Too short? Eh... you're clever; you'll find a way around it." The response only passingly matched the comment that brought it; her voice had lowered slightly in pitch, giving the words a different interpretation. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was shocked at herself, and a little nagging voice of reason insisted that this would not go over well, but in her alcohol-induced haze, she ignored it entirely.

Rocket's eyes grew comically wide, gleaming a deeper black than the fur of the "mask" and he shook his head rapidly enough to make his whiskers bounce like he was trying to clear his head. No way was she implying.. well... maybe? He lowered his paw slowly from her hair and squinted at the emerald-skinned beauty, trying to determine if she was fucking with him or not. But no, a close examination showed that Gamora wasn't sober enough to be messing with his head. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't exactly sober himself.

"W-where ya goin'?" Rocket peered upward when Gamora stood with more supple grace than a drunk woman had any right to. Suddenly, he found himself nervous even through the warm glow of the alcohol and he started fidgeting with the zippers on the cuffs of his jumpsuit, needing to be doing something at least a little active. 

"To bed?" She hadn't really intended for that to come out as a question, but making the statement with surety felt off to her. Inebriated as she was, she had enough of her head left to make choices her sober self wouldn't object to, but even so she felt a little uncertain. They were close friends, and had become even closer with the sharing of stories; she admired him for who he was and what he'd done with what had been done to him; what was the harm in taking it a bit further? And he -was- clever; he'd find a way to make it work. Unless he wasn't interested...

That worry was pushed away when he hopped down off of the box he'd perched on, setting the bottle down with barely a wobble to prove that he wasn't all that plastered either. Just enough to loosen inhibitions, not enough to make disastrous decisions. ""To bed?" Hey, who says you won our little contest, huh?"

"Who says we cannot both win?"

* * *

A compromise had been reached with a dimming of the lights. While more often than not such things were the purview of a shy woman, in this case it had been Rocket who had wished the lights out. Gamora wasn't certain why, but it seemed important enough to him that she'd dimmed the overhead lighting until shadows crept up along the walls and dim light played over skin and fur.

Drunk reflexes wouldn't allow for taking time to undress each other. Besides, trying to undress Rocket was just asking for disaster; only he knew where various explosives, triggers, and other pieces of arsenal were. 

Still, the expression on his face as she'd unzipped her snug jumpsuit and started to peel the fabric downward was one point in favor of not turning off the lights. He'd stared at her as though amazed by every inch of emerald skin she revealed. Her body was lean and hard, shaped into a weapon, and yet still had curves and softness that drew the eye and made the hand yearn to touch.

He hadn't touched yet. Rocket wasn't sure where to start; part of him wasn't certain this was even happening. It all seemed too strange and incredible to be real, yet there she stood, in front of the bed and naked as the day she was born. He hadn't given it a great deal of thought before, but she really was quite an attractive creature. He could see why so many people lusted after her even though it was hazardous to their health.

Would it be hazardous to his health? Not in the way it would be to most, probably; he hardly expected her to dice him up into easily-portable pieces with whatever blade was nearest to hand, but that wasn't the only way to hurt someone. As he hesitantly unfastened his own jumpsuit, he realized how vulnerable all of this would make him. That thought alone was nearly enough to send him packing, but the darkened look in Gamora's gaze held him where he was.

Rocket had never been with a typical humanoid. His partners had always been not unlike him; women of small races and characteristics that ignorant Terrans would call "animal-like." How could he manage to be enough for her? It was a daunting prospect, and considering it let him get out of his gear and jumpsuit without thinking much about it.

Gamora's frown was soft and a little puzzled, for once Rocket was stripped naked, he still didn't seem.. well, -naked-. She looked him over slowly, gaze finally finding the faint ridge beneath lighter brown belly-fur; the sheath hid everything but a tiny point of pink at the tip. She chewed her lower lip with a small smile, suddenly realizing why this was so awkward for Rocket. Anatomical differences. Perhaps he thought he'd be rejected because of them; if so, he would be proven wrong.

She sat down at the edge of the bed, bringing them a little closer in height. Her thighs parted to show the silken folds, not a trace of hair obstructing the view, and even she blushed a little at being so bold. Gamora saw her friend cease wringing his paws nervously, distracted by the erotic view, and smiled to herself. 

The moment she spread her legs in such an unladylike manner, all thoughts of anxiety and self-pity flew straight out of Rocket's head. It amazed him how she could be so enticing, so suddenly, all at once. Before today, he'd never thought of her this way; she was his friend and a glorious fighter, nothing more. Perhaps she'd longed for someone to see what else she was, too.

With her sitting there, Rocket felt less self-conscious about his height, and he abruptly knew where he was going to start with her, since she seemed to be waiting patiently. He'd be perfectly content to stare at her a while longer, but that could wait until after. For now, he stepped forward between her knees, staring up at her face for a moment as though checking to be certain this was still wanted. When she failed to laugh or push him away, he dipped his head and ran his long tongue up her slit.

Her gasp delighted him; he wanted to make her make that noise more. That was his goal. Paws settled on her inner thighs as though to keep them parted, though she spread them wider on his own, reacting to that brief tingle of pleasure. The movement made her smooth, velvety folds separate to display her pussy for him, making him gasp a little himself. He felt the ache low in his belly as lust was roused. He shuddered, feeling his cock start to extend from the soft-furred sheath at his belly, and he pushed thoughts of embarrassment to the side for now. He could worry about his anatomical issues later.

Gamora curled her fingers tightly in the sheets to either side of her hips, shudders running down her spine. Each lick up her pussy seemed to find a new way to make her gasp, and when he started nibbling lightly, oh-so-carefully at her clit, it was all she could do not to cry out. She leaned back, feet lifting from the floor as her toes curled just like her fingers had. Firm muscle along her belly tightened as heat began to spread through her, but Rocket seemed to know how to draw such things out. Every time she felt as if she was right on the edge, he'd slow down and lick gently along her folds instead, letting her cool down a bit before working her up all over again. The little beast seemed to take delight in teasing her! "Please," she finally whimpered after a sharp gasp, unable to take it any longer, wanting so badly to finally fall over the edge.

His ears flicked back and he grinned at her single word, thrilled that he'd been able to work her up so hard with just his mouth. Part of him, purely to be contrary, wanted to just keep teasing her, but the rest wanted to make her writhe. Growling softly, the vibrations felt against her slick folds, he let his long tongue dip into her pussy, flicking along the sensitive walls. One paw moved from her thigh to press against her clit and he began rubbing side to side while staring up her lovely body, wanting to see her face etched with bliss.

As her stomach tightened hard enough to curl her upper body forward, she let out a choked cry. Her grip on the sheets threatened to tear them but she was squirming too much to pull at the fabric. Panting, she spread her legs wide and lay back, trying to catch her breath as quivers raced down her spine. Heat bloomed and spread low in her belly as she climaxed, slick, clear nectar lapped up by the raccoon's eager tongue. She cried out, back arching, hips lifting eagerly. Long moments seemed to disappear in the wash of heat before she collapsed back down onto the bed from her stiff-muscled arch, whimpering softly and finally loosening her grip on the sheets. A few more moments and she had the breath to whisper, "My turn," dark eyes focused on his face between her thighs.

* * *

Gamora was hardly an innocent, but this was her first experience with an animalistic male. She'd known things would be different, maybe complicated, but she hadn't been sure what to expect. Now she knew.

It had taken some convincing to coax Rocket up onto the bed, and when he was finally on his back, she could read in his features that he was so vulnerable, expecting rejection. His whiskers drooped, his ears lay back limp; it made her want to prove those fears wrong. Looking down his body, she realized that it wouldn't be all that difficult to do.

He wasn't -that- dramatically different after all. His cock was shorter and slimmer than most she'd seen, but certainly big enough to make her happy. The head was almost a sphere, wider than the shaft with a deep slit at the tip that made her want to lick it just to find out how sensitive it was. Nothing stopping her, she did so and was rewarded with a soft groan from her would-be lover. A little pearly bead of pre-cum seeped from the crevice and dripped down the underside of his shaft; she traced it with the tip of her finger.

Then she blinked and traced her finger down his length again, pressing a little more. Most men's cocks had some give, some flexibility, but Rocket was completely rigid. Oh, there was some ability to squeeze and find only light resistance, but at the center he was rock-hard. She bit her lower lip when she realized that, with that kind of anatomy, he'd never go soft on her. If Rocket wanted to fuck, he could literally go all night, not stopping until he was physically exhausted. The thought was intriguing and daunting at the same time.

Curious, she curled her fingers around the base of his cock and slowly stroked upward, pleased to see another trickle of pre come dripping down to make her grip slicker. Making a soft, pleased sound, Gamora dipped her head and teased around the tip of his cock with her tongue, making him groan in mixed pleasure and protest. He squirmed on his back, tail swishing from side to side along the sheets, then went stock-still when she took the head into her mouth. Being smallish gave the advantage of comfort; he fit in her mouth perfectly and she started to suck, as eager for his gasps and groans as he had been for hers.

Her hips shifted in continued arousal that was only heightened by sucking his cock. Trickles of salty pre-cum obligingly continued down his shaft, keeping him slippery so she could stroke him faster; each tug made him buck up into her mouth. At first, he held himself back, but when she ducked her head lower to encourage him he stopped restraining himself. Self-consciousness washed away in growing bliss as he gripped her soft, dark hair in his paws. Aching much as she had, he arched and bucked each time she stroked down his rock-hard dick, breath coming in quick hisses between sharp clenched teeth. His size was just right to let his cock dip into her throat after a few pushes and some adjustment of position; once they hit that rhythm she held her head still and let him shove upward into her mouth over and over again. Arousal was still strong and little shudders raced down her spine; she knew he was close.

With a shaky cry, he bucked up and stayed in an arch, heels pressed into the bed and clawed toes curled, shaking with tension as he climaxed. Hot, slick cum spurted against the back of her throat and she pulled up slightly to suck hard at the head, flicking her tongue over that sensitive slit to keep him going. She was almost greedy for his cum, drinking it down without missing a drop until he collapsed onto his back and pulled free of her lips. 

Even then, a few beads of cum decorated the rounded tip of his cock, but the length started to withdraw back into the sheath at his belly. Rocket was animal enough that climax meant mating was done, and there was no more need to be exposed. Rocket was man enough to smirk faintly and murmur, "Doesn't have to stop yet."

"No... let's save that for next time," Gamora replied with a purr in her voice, though she ached for more right then. If he'd dived between her legs to take her, she wouldn't have said no, but she was content with this for now. They'd shared incredible pleasure, and he seemed less self-conscious and anxious now. When sex happened, he'd be more confident; that gave her something to look forward to.

"Next time?" Loss of anxiety or no, Rocket's ears and whiskers lifted in surprise and he rolled onto his side to peer at her as though uncertain she'd said what he heard. At her indulgent smile, he relaxed, and when she straightened out on the bed he nuzzled his muzzle affectionately against her shoulder.

"Mm. Mhm." Both of them dazed with alcohol and lingering euphoria, Gamora draped an arm around Rocket and they settled in to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Alarms blared like trumpets, waking both sleepers abruptly as the autopiloted ship ran into issues that absolutely required a pilot. Rocket grunted and pushed away the weight of a twisted blanket off of him, getting ready to roll out and race to the cockpit when suddenly that blanket moved. Going still with an entirely new kind of alarm that shone through his hangover, he very cautiously opened his eyes to find an equally cautious Gamora staring back at him. Naked. The forgetful fog of a hangover had both of them staring at one another, stunned, wondering how they got there. Then the source of the alarms made that question irrelevant.


	2. The Staff of the Hierophant #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the pieces of the Staff continues. Rocket shares some of his past with a sympathetic Gamora.

Every alarm noise imaginable seemed to echo through the little ship, from the incessant beeping of the proximity detectors to the shrill metallic yell informing all occupants that damage had been done. Yet with all the sounds, Rocket's ears stayed perked in Gamora's direction as though trying to pick up the slightest sound from her that might reference just what all had happened last night. Those ears stayed that way, swiveling and twitching as needed as Rocket practically flew into his jumpsuit and strapped weapons back into place with the proper haste such a wake-up deserved.

Gamora was a little slower than her furred companion. Her memory may have been blurred and hazy, but now that she was fully alert --besides the hangover that the alarms were doing nothing to help-- she remembered quite a bit about how they'd spent their night. And it came as a shock. Not necessarily a bad shock, but startling, like walking around a corner and nearly running into a friend. Welcome, but still a heart-speeding surprise.

For a moment, Rocket paused and struggled with his words. Just what was the proper thing to say in such a situation? Especially with most of his memory still shrouded in fog; animalistic instincts demanded his attention in the Here and Now of blaring alarms, not letting him think back to the clearly less dangerous things that were already Past. A thud that rocked their little vessel took precedence over words that weren't coming anyway and he spun, scampering up the ladder to pop out of the hatch and scramble toward the console.

Already he could see what the problem was. "Shut up, shut UP," he muttered with growing tension, smacking at the buttons and toggles that would make the alarms leave his throbbing headache alone for a while. Outside beyond the forward screen, he could see the small drone fighters, no bigger than little chunks of asteroid, taking pot-shots at his newly acquired luxury ship. It was irksome to realize that part of 'luxury' meant no weapons. He let loose a string of curses that made Gamora pause in dressing below deck when she heard them through the still-open hatch. She was quite certain none of those things should be done with a drone fighter.

"I need some help up here!" Rocket's voice was harsh with a small frustrated growl as he hopped into the pilot's seat and started some evasive maneuvers that probably didn't help Gamora get dressed any faster. A moment later and his ears twitched to the sound of her coming up the hatch.

"What is it you need me to do?" Gamora sounded remarkably calm, under the circumstances both assault related and morning after related. Hunched just a little, she moved up and put a hand on the top of the pilot chair, looking out at the half-dozen or so spherical machines that were firing little zaps of laser into the pristine white hull of their commandeered vessel. Not so pristine any more; they were firing at the belly of the boat, presumably trying to get to the engines and disable them.

"Take over!" Rocket rolled out of the pilot's seat and Gamora slid in easily to take his place. "Try and get ahead of them; I'm gonna go fix the engines!" He was over-loud in his speech, ears still ringing from the now-silent alarms.

"What?" Gamora turned to frown at him. "What's wrong with the engines?"

"They're not weapons yet."

* * *

"What are they?"

Rocket's voice was made hollow by the intercom system, but Gamora could hear the frustration in his voice. And the glee; that raccoon seemed to love little more than turning whatever happened to be on hand into explosive ordinance. "Drones," she replied calmly. Rocket couldn't see her amused smile as she continued her evasive course, trying to keep the drones in her rearview.

The intercom was quiet for a moment. "What -kind- of drones?" came the response in the slow and drawn-out cadence that indicates a veneer of patience slipping away. 

"I don't- fuck! -know," Gamora bit back another curse as she blinked repeatedly, trying to get the lingering glare out of her eyes; that last shot had flared brightly across the forward view. "They've got writing on them; shall I take a picture?"

Ignoring the possibility that this was sarcasm --it was always hard to tell with Gamora and her clipped, dignified speech patterns-- he replied, "Yep! Wanna know where to send a return care package to when we're done." He grinned with glee at the thoughts of what such a package might contain, but returned his focus to the engines.

Twist that wire a little tighter... increase the output of the coils while compensating with the buffers so as not to blow themselves up and save the drones the trouble.. tweak the power cells just right... "Done!"

"Wonderful. Done with what?" Gamora had to slam to one side to avoid a collision and it threw Rocket back from the ladder with a yelp. "Apologies! It could not be helped."

Rocket took her word for that and started scrambling up the ladder, nimble paws making the climb look so easy. He could climb just about anything as easily, though he tended to avoid doing so in public. It just reminded himself and others that he was an animal.

He popped back into the small bridge, where everything gleamed white and chrome and nothing had ever taken any damage until today. "Done fixing the engines. Fire 'em up in bursts when the drones close in on the rear."

Gamora opted not to ask. If he said the engines were weapons now, she was going to take him at his word. She let him buckle into the co-pilot's seat and started using the thrusters to push ahead of the drones, not queuing up the engines just yet. Not until the drones were trailing along behind. 

The engines roared; the engines shook the poor ship like a dice cup at a gambling bar, with them as the dice. Were it not for the harnesses, they'd have been rattling around, but by the blips on the screen vanishing one by one, it seemed the weaponized engines were doing a fine and dandy job vaporizing whatever came in behind them. A good thing too; the steady fire was about to poke a hole in their little ship.

Both of them cursed in unison when they saw that a pair of the drones seemed to think better of going near the engines. They resumed firing, bolts of energy making the vessel rock more precariously after the modifications had been put to the test. It was looking very grim; Rocket was, for once, out of ideas. Or rather, he had dozens of ideas but no way to implement them.

Wide black eyes peered at Gamora, and she stared back. It seemed the awkward silence they'd left below decks had found its way up to linger between them again, and after a long moment, Gamora's lips parted. "...Rocket..."

Rocket lifted his posture slightly, straightening up as his ears perked toward the green-skinned warrior. "Yes..?" Did she remember? Was she upset? Was it all a mistake?

"..we are saved!" She grinned and pointed toward the forward screen. A familiar blue-and-orange ship came into view, firing actual proper weapons at the drones.

"You guys start a party without me?" Peter Quill's voice sounded clearly over the intercom, with a chipper and high-pitched 'I am Groot!' in the background. "We'll clear away the guests and you can tell us the story about how you got the doohickey."

Rocket wilted. But only for a moment; being saved was a good thing, after all.

* * *

With their little stolen ship in tow, the Guardians met up together on the familiar bridge of the Starlord's vessel, minus Draxx. "Where's tall, dark, and literal?" Rocket inquired while patting Groot's head. The potted sapling seemed pleased with the attention.

"He's fixing a problem on Antaris Nine," replied Peter.

"What sorta problem?"

Peter grinned. "The kind that a good solid pummeling will usually put to rights." He put his hands on the star chart table, leaning forward, portraying his usual casual confidence. "Seems the cap to this staff has an owner, but instead of being willing to part with it, he wanted Draxx. Said something about adding to his "collection"?" Peter rolled his eyes heavenward to demonstrate just how exasperated a good number of things in the galaxy made him. Mischief then shone in his gaze. "So I traded him Draxx. Hope he has piles of fun with that."

Gamora scoffed with a trace of humor. "So we'll be seeing Draxx in a "collected" ship at the next rendezvous?" As Peter nodded, she turned her attention back to the star charts. Anyone paying close mind to her would notice her gaze might have been on the charts, but her thoughts were wandering off through the starscape. But the only person watching closely was Rocket. That blank stare and thoughtful expression was making him nervous; he assumed --perhaps in a flash of vanity-- that it was he who was being thought about, but he had no idea if it was favorable or not. Given past experiences, he was leaning toward 'not'.

"Any trouble getting your piece of the staff?" Peter looked expectantly at Rocket and Gamora, who both glanced at each other.

"Nah. Got some chase on the way out and acquired a new ride on the way, but nuthin' we couldn't handle. What about you guys?"

Peter leaned down to grab a satchel which landed on the table with a clatter that made Rocket wince; the human wasn't very careful with what might be very delicate computer parts. The bag was unceremoniously unzipped, displaying several more cylinders much like the one Rocket and Gamora had managed to steal. He pulled his from one of the many pockets on his jumpsuit and added it to the pile. "How many more ya think we're missing?"

"I am Groot."

"No, you can't play with them."

"I am Groot?"

"Okay, maybe after we're done."

Rocket let himself smile a bit at his old --and recently new-- potted friend, then returned to serious business, eyeing Peter.

"Got a couple more to pick up. Somehow Nova Corps actually has one; apparently someone was using it as a paperweight. Only got two clues for the others; rumor has it some might be on a planet called Jeleyah Prime. Uninhabited now, but apparently it used to be quite the busy place. Hot and muggy, probably filled with bugs, likely some traps to screw us over. You know, the usual."

Rocket snorted and shook his head, tail swaying. Hot and humid wasn't something he was looking forward to, but the sooner they finished this job, the sooner he could work out more personal issues. He stole a sidelong glance at Gamora, admiring the grace she showed doing something as simple as flipping lazily through star charts. "So what's the other clue?"

"The city beyond the Galacian Wall," Peter replied, voice a bit puzzled. Faint lines creased his forehead as he frowned. "And we've got nothing beyond that. Any thoughts?"

"I am Groot!"

"Yes. -That- Galacian Wall. How many giant forcefields surrounding star systems do you think there are?" Rocket's response was a little gruff, though his expression softened and he patted the growing potted twig by way of apology for snapping. 

"You know something about this place, Rocket?" Gamora's dark gaze was now entirely focused on him and it made him feel a little warm, like he'd found a flat rock to sun himself on. Except a flat rock wouldn't make him second-guess things.

"..yeah. Probably looking for a place called Halfworld."

"Weird name for a planet," commented Peter with one eyebrow lifted.

"Appropriate name. Half the place is idyllic nature, the other half is industrial wasteland."

"I... am Groot?"

Rocket looked down at his sapling companion and heaved a sigh heavy enough to make his drooping whiskers sway. "No, I haven't told them anything about it. But," he added, looking up between Gamora and Peter, "There's not a lot to tell." He blinked and tilted his head to the side, considering that for a moment. "Nope, I'm lying, there's probably a lot you need to know."

Peter stood and gestured grandly for him to take the metaphorical floor, then folded his arms to wait patiently for details. Gamora gave Rocket a more intent gaze, sensing that something was off. Of course, right now her instincts for that when it came to the raccoon were a little blurred, much like the memories of the night before, but she was fairly certain that he was distinctly uncomfortable. She watched closely to see if she could figure out what was wrong.

"Okay, here's the deal with Halfworld. I don't know who started it, but the planet wound up being an asylum for lunatics." Rocket stated this perfectly calmly, as though it was normal to fill a planet with insane people.

"Jeez! Are they dangerous?" Peter looked mildly alarmed, wheels spinning in his head as he tried to figure out how they were going to get an artifact from a planet full of people who'd gone koo-koo for Cocoa Puffs.

Before he could even get started, Rocket shook his head and waved a dismissive paw. "Some of them might have been, but most of 'em were just quietly nuts. Child-like states for a lot of 'em, that kinda thing. And even the rougher ones had distractions to keep 'em outta trouble."

Rocket and Groot shared a moment of brief eye-contact; if a plant could look concerned, he did, but only fleetingly. Only Gamora caught it before Rocket continued his explanation. "So whoever stashed the nuts there had a bunch of robots to look after 'em. The robots eventually got smart, yanno? Sentient. Started building a city. That's why half the planet is so industrial; the other half was kept low-tech and high-nature as therapy for the Loonies."

Nods from around the table, as well as curiosity; this was a new concept for Gamora and Starlord. "So anyway. The robots in their city made toys. Special toys to keep the Loonies content and occupied. Couple moguls of the flesh-bag variety were in charge of the companies that made toys. They got into a war over it, believe it or not. Called it "The Toy War" because they're not very creative." He snickered, seeing his attempt at levity had brought a bit of humor to the room.

"Don't know who won, don't really care. Apparently whoever did developed a toy to cure Loonies, or at least improve 'em a bunch. And the Wall is still up, but you can get past it with the right codes."

It had been sounding fairly good. Wars over, Loonies sane, and then Rocket had to bring up codes. Peter sighed heavily and threw his hands up in the air. "Alright, where are we gonna get codes?"

Rocket was quiet for a moment, introspective. His ears drooped a little out to the side, and he gave a small shake of his head before reluctantly speaking. "...I've got 'em."

* * *

It was strangely relaxing to be back on the little cruiser. The smooth, curved lines and the white and chrome managed to feel relaxing, though Rocket knew that was mostly because of his current case of nerves. 

Of course Groot knew his history; he and the shrub had been pals for a long time, and you couldn't keep secrets like that, not from such a close friend. Everyone else, on the other hand, had been blissfully in the dark, just as Rocket would prefer, until today.

How long had it been since he thought about Halfworld? 

Generally, he tried -not- to. The planet itself didn't harbor any negativity in his mind, but some events were tied in closely. Not to mention his own nature. A companion Animal to keep the Loonies closely observed and docile, one of many that lived on the park-like side of the planet where nature, if not running wild, at least loped. At least there, he'd been with other companion Animals. He winced and stopped that train of thought before it could really leave the station. There were some lanes of memory he had no interest in traveling down.

Rocket had to resign himself to the possibility, though. He knew very well that the others had found it odd how he'd so handily had information about Halfworld on hand, not to mention access to codes that would have been heavily restricted. Eventually, surely, someone would come to ask him about his history with the planet behind the Galacian Wall, but he hoped it wouldn't be any time soon.

Taking his mind off things, Rocket went down the hatch into the engine room, which shone just as white-and-chrome as the rest of the vessel, with colored lights and runners to add a festive splash of hues. He started tinkering with the engines again, modifying the changes he'd made; there'd be no need to have the engines as weapons now. Especially with the Milano around; he'd probably be able to run some salvage and get some actual guns for the new boat. Rocket was starting to think of it with a touch of possessive pride. Maybe it was his ship now.

He was so wrapped up in his tinkering that he didn't hear the sound of soft laced boots coming down the rungs into the engine room from above deck.

"Rocket?" Gamora's voice was soft and laced through with a mingling of curiosity and concern. Despite this, it also made the raccoon in question damn near levitate in surprise, his ringed tail turning abruptly bushy as plush fur stood on end. His wrench landed with a clatter before he did and he spun around with black eyes wide within the mask pattern of his facial fur.

Gamora had to bite back a laugh, knowing that Rocket wasn't in a jesting mood. In truth, neither was she. She'd noticed some of his odd reactions back on Peter Quill's ship, and she'd been puzzling them over. Of course, there had been odd reactions all day, thanks to the night before, and that deserved some discussion as well, but for the moment her focus was on his strange responses to Halfworld. "I am sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. Are you well?"

The phrasing made the last sentence seem related to the previous and Rocket huffed, fur flattening properly again while he tugged at his jumpsuit a bit to settle it properly. "'Course. Just a bit of a surprise. Shouldn't do that to a guy, yanno?" It took effort to make his tone light-hearted, but by Gamora's narrowed eyes, his efforts didn't hit home.

"That is not what I mean, Rocket." She walked over between the work-benches and stations of the engine room, dropping down into an easy crouch so she could be closer to eye level with her friend. "Something bothers you. Something about Halfworld." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, considering whether or not to push him about the subject. "...you should talk about it. Especially if our mission will take us there; whatever bothers you now should not be in the forefront of your thoughts when we arrive. Will you speak of it with me?"

Had anyone else come down to the engine room asking about that, Rocket would have rudely sent them on their way. But this was Gamora. He peered at her closely as she approached and got down to his level with such casual ease. She never meanly teased him about his size, never made it seem important in the least. She simply accommodated as needed. Even last night...

No. Those thoughts would not do well here, though the brief flash of memory made him flush hotly beneath his fur. Rocket was grateful for his pelt in that moment, grateful that it hid his reaction. And unaware that his twitching ears and whiskers gave it away anyway. "I.. look, it's not that important, really. It's no big deal," Rocket lied half-heartedly.

Gamora shook her head, red-tipped brown hair hissing over her shoulders. "No, Rocket, it seems very important. To you. So it is also important to me. Please, tell me more about it."

Rocket heaved a sigh, unaware that he was dry-washing his paws at his waist in a nervous gesture. "All right. But I'm going to need booze for this."

The stately green woman grinned just a little and stood up. "How fortunate that the hold is stuffed to the brim with strange liquors. I am sure we can find a bottle or two to get lost in while you tell me this tale, hm?"

* * *

Back in the bedroom with bottles again. If Rocket hadn't been so distracted thinking about Halfworld, he'd have been equally distracted thinking about the night before. The bottle he took a cautious swig from was tall and black, but the drink within was light, even fruity. Until it kicked like a frenzied taunda on the way down. The way that liquor felt, he should have had hoof prints inside his stomach.

Gamora sat on the edge of the bed, curled forward with her elbows set upon her knees. Her bottle, small and plain, dangled between her calves from the light grip she kept upon the neck. Rocket had failed to notice that she'd chosen something with far less of a kick, and was only sipping while he was drinking. She didn't want this conversation to end up in a shifting fog like the night before had, even if much of her memory had returned to her by now.

"Hated the city side," Rocket mumbled, seated atop one of the crates of mystery booze, tail hanging down the side and twitching at the tip. "Everything stank. Smog was everywhere and there were so many lights you couldn't see the stars." He looked upward as though able to see those stars through the hull of the small ship. Maybe in his mind, he could. "Other side was better. Nature was allowed to be natural, yanno? Not trimmed and shaped and shoved around the way people thought it should look. Sure, there were pretty parks and playgrounds and stuff, but there was wild woods and steep mountains and quiet lakes... any time you wanted, you could just go out into the nature. There, you could see the stars."

The raccoon sounded almost wistful, but Gamora had been hearing about the two sides of the planet for close to half a bottle now. Rocket was avoiding anything personal as he talked about Halfworld, and that meant he wasn't telling her what was truly bothering him. Even half-drunk, he was managing to evade the point. "Rocket," she said patiently, with sympathy lightly coloring her voice. "What was the planet -to you-? You are bothered, and not by the scenery. Please. Talk to me."

Black eyes glinted from within an equally black mask, showing perhaps a touch more sobriety than Gamora had realized. He was silent for moments that stretched like pulled taffy, tense and refusing to let go, then sighed. "Fine. I'm.. I think I'm from Halfworld."

That revelation came as a surprise to Gamora; she nearly choked on the small swig of her beverage that she'd taken in anticipation of a longer wait. "What? I thought you said the place was Loonies and Bots."

Rocket shook his head, pointed ears drooping back as he looked away. Absently, he started fiddling with the bottle; if he hadn't been holding it, he'd have been dry-washing his paws together in his anxiety. "And people to take care of the Loonies..."

A frown traced Gamora's full lips as she contemplated this mere shred of information. Instead of speculating out loud, she nodded after a few seconds and gestured for him to continue.

"The Loonies needed people to look after them. Even their kids were born crazy, like it was some sort of genetic experiment or something. Don't think I ever found out why they were that way, but I observed them enough to know it was true." Words came reluctantly through sharp teeth as he took this unwanted trip down memory lane.

In truth, the memories weren't all bad; plenty were actually quite pleasant. It was more that he didn't want to admit what he was there. "The Loonies needed friends. Caretakers. So whoever put them there I guess thought the best way would be to give them..." He almost stopped right there and called it done, but her stare seemed to draw more words from him with compassion. "To give them companion animals."

Gamora straightened up, leaning back as a means of conveying her surprise. She knew quite well how easy it was to rile up Rocket by inferring that he was some animal; to hear him actually say it came as something of a shock. And no surprise that he'd lowered his head to stare at the floor beneath his dangling boots. Her heart went out to him as she watched his defeated posture slump just a little more, his whiskers droop til they were nearly limp. "Oh, Rocket.." She started to reach out and his head snapped up. He leaned away from the offered touch and shook his head.

"You wanted this story." It was almost accusatory, but Gamora forgave him immediately, given the topic. And she had asked, after all. "So we were companion animals to the Loonies. We had our own society, our own little government, and our jobs of taking care of all these poor people. There were all kinds of animals, but I was the only one like me I ever saw." He took rough pride in being the only thing like him.

Gamora settled back to her hunched position, understanding now why Rocket had required some liquor lubrication for this particular story. She quietly watched him, dark hair falling to frame elegant features, sympathy shining in her eyes. 

"The Bots over on city-side made toys. Simple stuff for the kids, complex stuff for the adults, that helped keep 'em all calm. But non-Bots ran the corporations that cranked out the toys. Eventually one of 'em decided to try a.. whatchacallit.. hostile take-over. And it got real hostile. Started a whole war. We was just lucky it didn't come over to the Loonies side." He frowned, then bared his teeth just a little. "Well... mostly didn't come over."

"See, there was this guy. Big Saurian, called himself "Lord Dyvyne", and the eyeroll could be heard in his tone as well as seen. "He had a thing for my girl, Lylla..." His voice slowed a little on the last word and he cautiously looked up at Gamora, wondering what she'd think of that. He was relieved to see no surprise, no humor. No cruel amusement at the idea of a companion animal having a girlfriend. "She was a pretty little thing, with dark brown fur that always stayed slicked down, and big brown eyes. Loved to swim. Great sense of humor, and she was always good with the Loonie kids." His words took on a more somber tone as he sighed, not really wanting to dredge up the old memories. But now that he'd started, it was like a band-aid. He had to keep pulling it off slowly, or rip it off fast; either way would be unpleasant.

"He kidnapped her," Rocket said simply. Gamora knew it wasn't even in the same galaxy as 'simple', though. "Never got her back. Always hoped she found her way to a nice new home after everybody started abandoning the planet."

Gamora frowned slightly, eyes narrowing. "I am sorry, Rocket, perhaps I misunderstood something. Why would everyone abandon the planet?"

"Oh. The conclusion of the Toy War. See, one of the companies had come up with a toy to cure the Loonies. Another company didn't want it to get used; it'd mess with their profits if their clients were sane." Absolute disgust is in his tone and shows in the crinkle of his muzzle. "In the end, though, the 'good guys' --whoever they were-- won, and the toy got made. Most of the Loonies got cured. Once that happened, most of the Bots and Companions made their way elsewhere, like me."

Understanding, Gamora nodded. Quiet settled for a while, a quiet that involved Rocket looking downward morosely. Finally, she decided to speak up, hoping she had the right words. "I know what you look like, Rocket. And I know how other people see you sometimes. But I do not see you as an animal. You're a person. You're my friend. You're.. just you." She smiled, a small, warm curve of her lips, a little hopeful that she'll manage to pull him out of his slump at least a little bit.

"I miss Lylla," he commented out of the blue. "And I miss Halfworld. I miss fitting in. Nobody saw you as just some animal when everyone was some animal."

She chuckled very softly and nodded her understanding at this. "But out in the rest of the galaxy, you feel too different. Like you stand out too much." Rocket tilted his head in thought for a moment, then shrugged and nodded his agreement. "Rocket. You regularly show up places inside a weaponized mech, or throwing bombs, or shooting rocket launchers, or flying on rocket-skates. Even if you looked like Average Joe, as Peter would say, you would still stand out."

Something about that statement just struck Rocket as so funny. It took him a minute before he started snickering, as if he felt the moment inappropriate for levity, but it wasn't long before he was curled with muffled laughter that joined Gamora's delight at his amusement.

Their mirth was cut short when a whistle sounded, announcing ship-to-ship communications. Peter Quill's voice, a little higher pitched with the beginning edge of alarm, came through with minimal static. "We're at Jeleyah Prime and there's a welcoming committee. Brace for-" Impact came, rocking their little ship hard to port and tossing Rocket off of his bunk.

"Get back to the Milano before the tether disconnects!" His voice was snarling and snappish, but Rocket didn't care. His mind was on surviving whatever was happening right now; perhaps he'd apologize later. Of course, with how Gamora was, he probably wouldn't even need to. She'd understand.

Gamora did as told, going up through the hatch to the main deck. Rocket could hear her footsteps on the deck plating as she ran to the airlock. For his part, he scampered nimbly up the ladder and flung himself into the pilot's seat so he could get a look at the problem.

The problem was... drones. Much, much bigger drones; they were like orbital satellites, but bristling with weaponry from lasers to torpedoes, and it appeared the automated defense system around the dark green and blue planet below was dramatically opposed to visitors. He saw the tether disconnect from the airlock and was comforted to know that Gamora was safer aboard the more sturdy Milano. Now he just had to dodge incoming fire or hide in the Milano's shadow until they could land.

Or that was the plan, anyway. It didn't last beyond sharp flares from one of the satellites that sent torpedoes hammering into his sleek little ship. One engine sputtered, died, and sputtered again before failing while the other was only firing at half-power. The small white ship drifted until it skipped briefly over the planet's upper atmosphere, then got pulled further down by gravity to spiral out of control toward the marshy surface of Jeleyah Prime.


	3. Staff of the Hierophant #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocket makes an abrupt landing on the planet where the Spheres originated. The Builders are revealed. Rocket and Gamora manage to get some time alone.

The Staff of the Hierophant #3

"Rocket!" Grief edged Gamora's voice as she watched the little white ship plummet down to the planet. She would have had more time to analyze her own reaction if it wasn't for the security measures that surrounded the planet in the form of automated weapon satellites. 

"I am Groot?!" Perhaps grief edged Groot's voice as well; the little sproutling was watching from his pot, but quickly went quiet as the Milano rocked from side to side, reacting to the impact of laser fire striking at her flanks.

Gamora braced against the Captain's chair, then staggered forward to man the console that sat beside Peter Quill's position, quickly punching in evasive maneuvers while Starlord fired back at the automated defense network.

Was Rocket dead? He was such an extraordinary pilot that there was still hope, even with the engines sputtering as the white ship had fallen out of view. He had to still be alive. They hadn't even had a chance to talk yet! She glanced down at her hands and realized they were shaking slightly, minute tremors making long and slender fingers quiver. She balled her hands into fists to stop the shudders, glancing sideways at Peter. To her relief, he was focused on firing and hadn't noticed her emotional state.

That hazy curtain caused by the alcohol that night had faded like dreams do the next morning; she remembered everything clearly. Uncertainty about the situation would draw a darker emerald flush to her cheeks if she thought about it too long, but it was all vibrant in her mind. She wouldn't have expected that the little tactician had such potential for passion in him, and a different shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the bliss he'd brought her. The quick shake of her head made red-tipped chestnut hair sway about her shoulders as she cleared her mind, focusing on her task. She had to keep evading fire while not losing track of where the crash site should be. Such complex calculations kept her mind occupied and free of distraction and worry while Peter returned fire with the hope of disabling the network that defended the planet from visitors.

"Not a friendly bunch!" Peter's voice was raised to be heard above the fire coming from both sides. He tried to lead both of the satellites and suddenly drop so they'd fire on each other, but whoever had programmed them had thought of that. They simply stopped firing, and Peter blinked and turned off the thrusters, lingering directly between two of the weapon satellites. Apparently it was a no-fire zone now, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

"We cannot stop, Peter Quill! We must go after Rocket!" Little hints of frantic worry danced at the edges of her raised voice and she bit her lip to keep herself from saying anything further, lest she manage to betray the feelings she was only just becoming familiar with.

Peter squinted at her as though he'd be able to see the reason she was so upset if he just stared intently enough. When no bursts of ideas came to him, he shook his head slightly. "We will, Gamora, relax. He's a good pilot; he's probably building bombs out of his ship down there. We need to check the damage."

Gamora couldn't deny that necessity, so with a frown creasing her elegant features, she started going over the readouts on the condition of the ship. It had sustained some heavy damage, but as far as she could tell, none of it was an immediate threat. "We seem fine... no serious damage; just some weakened points in the hull."

"That'll get serious quick if we have to take much more fire." Peter got up and paced to the reinforced glass of the canopy, staring out at the drones. "See if you can figure out a way to disable them. Maybe muck around with their sensors?"

Gamora slid from her seat gracefully and stared out the other side of the canopy at the satellite. "The markings... do you see, Peter?"

Peter leaned closer to the glass as though that would somehow give him a better view, brow furrowing. "Looks like the same stuff we saw in those tiny drones that we got off your ass. Know what it says?"

"It is not in a language that I know. But we must assume that they were made by the same people, the people that lived on the planet below. Do you know anything of them?"

"Nope. But we'll find out once we're down there." Peter patted the device at his belt. It would show them what had been on the abandoned planet back when it was active. Assuming it truly -was- abandoned, at any rate. "Got any bright ideas?"

"Do you remember that time Rocket took out the security cameras around that statue by splattering them with.. what did you call it? Gum?"

"Hey hey, that sounds like a partial plan! What do we got on here that'll work like that? Can you see the sensors?"

Gamora nodded, biting her lower lip as she mulled over what they'd have on board that would have the desired effect. 

"I am Groot?"

She really wished she understood the tiny plant like Rocket did. Perhaps Groot had an idea, but it wasn't one she could follow along. "Oh! We could use that oil Rocket keeps around for the engines!"

Peter didn't bother acknowledging the comment, instead darting off of the bridge and heading for the engine room.

Moments passed in silence as Gamora stared at the cloud-swirled planet, hoping that Rocket was alright. Maybe he really was sitting down there building bombs to occupy his time while he waited for them to catch up. It was an encouraging thought.

"Gamora!"

The sudden static-riddled voice made her jump, one hand fluttering to the center of her chest as if she could press firmly and make her heart stop thudding at such a pace. "Is it ready, Peter Quill?"

"Yeah, get on the weapon station. I've got the tubes filled with that goo; it is disgusting, by the way. Fire at those sensors when ready!"

Gamora hopped into the seat at the weapon console, slim fingers tapping in coordinates for fire. She programmed in the commands that would fire the torpedo tubes --sans torpedoes-- at the sensor grids on both satellites at the same time. A push of a button fired the tubes and she held her breath, half-expecting to find the satellites ready to fire on the Milano, but neither satellite did anything. "I believe it has worked, Peter Quill!"

Moments later, Peter popped up from the hatch and went to take his new place at the navigation console. "Alright! Let's go get our Rocket."

* * *

The little white ship had seen better days. For starters, it was no longer white. Somewhere under the gray-green grime of algae and the richer grey-red of swamp muck would be the familiar sleek shape, but it would be a long while before it was pristine again.

Rocket had managed to use the swampy jungle terrain to his advantage, guiding the ship in at a very shallow angle so the trees would slow the descent. A path was easily seen where many of those trees paid the price of falling over, but it had kept him from exploding or breaking apart or any number of other unpleasant things that could occur when a ship met a planet abruptly. 

Once Rocket was assured that his brave little ship wasn't going to sink into swamp and disappear, he grabbed his gear and leapt from the ship to the nearest rock, needing no time to get his balance. If there was terrain he was built for, it was forests like this. The scummy pond lay surrounded by thick foliage, tall trees reaching up to the stars while flower-bedecked shrubbery and vines filled in the lower areas and crept up trunks and along the ground. It was hot and muggy, but even so, the place was pretty.

He skipped over a few more rocks until he was on dry land and gave himself a quick shake to throw moisture off of his fur. "This is where we're going to find high tech data cylinders? This place can't even manage mastery of fire," he muttered grumpily to himself as he took off his rocket boots. In this terrain, he'd do much better with paws and claws exposed. He tied the laces of the boots together and slung them around his shoulders, then slipped quietly into the trees.

Climbing one of the forest giants was almost too easy. Thick, rough bark provided perfect holds for nimble fingers and toes, claws hooking in to help pull his light weight up higher. The smells around him were distracting; sweet honey scents of brilliantly colored jungle flowers, bitter scents of broken bark, and surrounding all of it, the distinct yet impossible to describe scent of life. The forest was thick, and while he didn't see much movement, Rocket knew that plenty of animals called it home. Were it not for the big scare of a crash-landing ship, he was certain the woods would be filled with birdsong, but eerie silence reigned instead.

Once close to the top of the tree, he scooted out onto one of the branches until he could poke his head above the canopy. Animal instincts made certain that he wouldn't stick his neck out too far; airborne predators would swoop down quickly on any small creature that showed itself fully. But worry dissipated swiftly as he took in the vista before him.

Forest for miles, thick and green, lush beneath the sun that seemed so bright up here compared to beneath the forest canopy. Birds and colorful insects fluttered among the flowered tree-tops, far enough away that they hadn't been scared into silence by his abrupt arrival. And further away than that, a city.

Rocket wasn't sure what else to call it. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Massive buildings of stone were just visible. Not built from stone, but -carved- from stone, as though some race took a range of mountains and whittled it down into a cityscape. Greens tinted grey here and there in the distance, proof that the city was overgrown in a big way. "Well. Must be where we're going." Just in case, he turned slowly around to get an idea of the rest of the landscape, but every other direction held forest or uncarved mountain. West was the only way to go for anyone who didn't relish rustic living.

Triangular ears perked at a familiar sound, like a deep and pressured hiss, making him look up. His jaw gaped with glee, exposing sharp white teeth as he saw the familiar orange-and-blue bulk of the Milano making its way through the atmosphere and circling in search of a good place to land. He ducked back into the canopy and started shimmying down the tree.

* * *

"See, Gamora? Ship is intact, so Rocket must be too," Peter commented as Gamora guided the Milano downward in a tight spiral. There wasn't much of a place to land besides the tumbled-down stretch of trees Rocket had left in his wake, so she carefully came in to land at the edge of the filthy pond, hearing branches scrape across the underbelly of the ship.

"I do hope so," she murmured softly, more to herself than to Peter. 

Once landed, both Gamora and Peter made their way out of the ship and moved to the edge of the pond, peering at the once-white vessel their furry companion had taken a liking to. Worry started to be shared as they saw no motion within, no sign of movement without. 

A rustle from the bushes made both of them turn and reach for weapons. Tension hung thicker in the air than moisture and forest-scent until Rocket burst out of the underbrush, startling both of them enough to make them junk. "Sheesh. Took you guys long enough! What were you doing, trying to find better parking?"

* * *

"Are you sure it's this way?" Peter wanted to complain about their surroundings but he was too tired from this little forest hike to muster up the energy.

"It's either this way, or it's buried so deep in the jungle that we'll die of old age before we ever find it." Rocket was right at home here, scampering easily over fallen trees and under shrubbery. As Gamora passed, he popped up holding a brilliant crimson flower in one hand. The inner petals were a rich brown. "Looks like your hair."

Gamora blinked, then smiled, taking the flower and admiring it before tucking it into her hair behind one ear. Her cheeks took on a slightly deeper hue; she knew among many cultures the gift of a flower was part of early courtship. Full lips parted to speak, when: "Stop flirting and start hiking!"

Peter was surely kidding with his phrasing, but it made Gamora blush until her cheeks were the same verdant green as the foliage around them, and made Rocket's ears stand straight up while his whiskers went slack. They looked at each other, then turned and made their way after Peter.

* * *

When the forest broke, it was sudden. Abruptly, the trio found themselves with a clear view of hilly landscape, tall grasses and taller flowers in a meadow that led all the way to the city of monoliths in the distance. All three flinched at the sudden sunlight; it must have been late morning on Jeleyah Prime. Fortunate, since it hardly seemed likely the city would have any handy light sources.

They found that to be true when they arrived along one of the tattered remnants of roads they'd found. "This place is huge!" Peter looked up with something like awe at the tall stone-carved buildings. Everything had curves, from the winding streets to the sloping or domed buildings. When it was in its prime, it must have been an incredibly beautiful place. Now, it just seemed a bit melancholy, the last piece of a puzzle that had once been a civilization.

"Hey, Starlord. Break out that doohickey of yours, the thing that shows what a place used to be." Rocket felt so small compared to the huge buildings that surrounded them, but his curiosity could not be contained. He itched to hop in through one of the windows, many of which had fragments of colored glass still in them, and explore.

"Right. Doohickey." He pulled it from the back of his belt and gave it a shake to dislodge any moisture. The black and white hand-held device gave a little whir and blue light came out from the front, faint gridlike patterns analyzing the place. Peter had no idea how the thing worked, but it had turned out to be a good steal over the years, showing the places and people before everything had gone to ruins.

All three were a little startled when the images started to resolve.

The buildings, stark gray and unadorned, took on new life. Banners hung from windows that were filled with brilliantly colored stained glass, and heavy stone pots were occupied by jungle and meadow flowers. Flags danced at the ends of posts along the winding streets, serving no purpose but to flutter in the wind and add more bright hues to what would otherwise have been a drab city.

But what truly caught their attention was the people. "Saurians," Rocket breathed, looking around with wide eyes. Images of bipedal reptiles went about their business. Their arms were longer and stronger than the dinosaurs that had been their ancestors and they stood more upright, using thick tails for proper balance. Intelligent eyes watched from varying faces, carnivore and herbivore and the various spaces in between. Not one race of Saurians, but many. 

"I have seen Saurians before, but never so many different kinds, and certainly not living together." Something about the now-dead city and the layer of its once-vibrant past made Gamora speak softly; it seemed a requirement of the place. "I have never heard of such a thing. This place must be incredibly ancient…"

Rocket nodded slowly, staring at the superimposed images. Seeing the Saurians made him tense and think of Lord Dyvyne. He could easily have been one of these people. The thought made him go a little cold inside, but he banished those threads of wondering from his mind and walked beyond the handheld projection to stare at the city as it was now. Empty. "Got anything that can translate the language? Cuz that'd be real handy if we're going to find where the data tubes are."

"What, you expect to find a building labeled "Staff of the Hierophant pieces go here?"" Peter scoffed, feeling mildly belligerent. He didn't know what was going on, but something had changed the dynamic between Rocket and Gamora, and he didn't like not knowing what. It made him snappish.

"No, Quill," Rocket replied with exaggerated patience. "I expect to find which districts specialized in what." He gestured up the side of a building, and Gamora and Peter moved closer to get a look at it. It was a map, presumably to guide visitors around the city. Routes of what must have been public transportation were labeled with lines in green, while sections of the city were color-coded.

"Oh." Peter aimed the device at the map, tapping a few buttons so it could learn the language. "Map. Handy." The doohickey started scanning the blue grid of light over the map, highlighting the glyphs that (presumably) formed words and analyzing how they went together so it could decipher the language and translate it properly.

The device beeped cheerily once it had analyzed everything and Gamora leaned in close to Peter to take a look at the screen. Rocket scowled a little, muzzle crinkling and exposing his sharp front teeth, but neither noticed his expression. As soon as Rocket realized he was making it, he turned away to look at the map again, wondering at his own reaction. He was used to being left out of some things, being simply not tall enough to do things like check a readout someone was holding, but seeing Gamora so close to Peter bugged him in a way he wouldn't have been able to articulate.

He'd often wondered why they didn't get together. After all, they seemed well-suited, both attractive in their ways. Not to mention the potential for passion constant danger could bring. They had a certain chemistry. It had never mattered before, never even crossed Rocket's mind, but now it bothered him. This must be what jealousy is like. He sneered and told himself that he wouldn't be dealing with that unpleasant feeling any more. It would be nothing but a distraction, and his tactical mind was able to push it all aside for now. 

That tactical mind found another distraction, a better distraction, wandering the pathways of the map. Something about it struck Rocket as "off" but he couldn't quite put his paw on it. A little frown made his ears slant ever so slightly downward as he studied the map closer, lifting up onto his toes and putting his paws on the wall. Something about all the curves…

That was it. All those curves prevented easy line-of-sight. The height of the buildings and how closely spaced they were would prevent all but the smallest of personal passenger ships from landing anywhere in the city itself. One paw traced along the city lines until he found what he suspected was the water source, deep in the center of the ancient metropolis.

The city was a fortress. Confusing paths blocking views, tall buildings providing easy firing lines down into the streets and preventing ships from having an easy landing, a fresh water source at the center… the place was designed to be a bulwark against attack; the place could stand a siege for months, easily. Longer, if they had good food stores and a decent arsenal.

Arsenal… Rocket pawed over the map again, ears perking up and whiskers twitching forward. He was no longer seeing the strange glyphs that labeled the map, but viewing the place as he would design it, if he were designing a city to stand up to siege. Toward the center went his clawed fingertips until he reached a circle designating a rather large building. "They're there," he muttered.

"What was that, Rocket?" Gamora turned away from Peter to eye her furred companion curiously.

"This city's a damn fortress," Rocket explained gruffly. "Whole thing is designed for siege. That means important stuff is at the middle. I don't know what all these lizards deemed 'important', but I'd bet food, water, and weapons were high on those lists. We should make our way in there and check it out."

"Now, not so fast! We haven't even translated the writing yet!" Peter wasn't even entirely certain why he was disagreeing with Rocket. Maybe it was just habit, or perhaps an urge to be contrary. He couldn't match the raccoon's tactical brilliance, and sometimes that goaded him into unnecessary argument. 

Rocket growled softly, fur along his back bristling beneath his flight suit. "The writing will be wrong anyway! This place is designed to confuse unwanted visitors. They're not gonna put a label with 'ray guns and necessary supplies are here'." He shook his head with a soft scoff, unable to believe that he was getting resistance over this. To him, it was all abundantly clear. A city made of narrow, twisting alleys that were surrounded by sniper roosts with no way to land and bring in further reinforcements easily could be nothing but a fortress, and nobody labeled their fortresses. "Listen, BarLord, if we want to get at where the weapons got stored, we go to the center."

Before Peter could work up another argument --which clearly, he was doing, to judge by his scowl-- Gamora stepped between them with both hands upraised, palms out. "Stop. Look, we want more than just the cylinders here. Look around. If these people were warlike enough to design even a simple city to deter attackers, they may have been the builders of the Sphere in the first place. We need history. Rocket?"

Grumbling under his breath and folding his arms, he peered up at Gamora and arched a single eyebrow, waiting for her to ask her question.

"If you were a.. a library.. where would you be here?" She gestured with one hand at the map, letting the other arm fall back to her side.

"A library?" His muzzle twisted a little in consternation and he looked back at the map. "Probably close to the center. Maybe the first ring of streets around it. How easy it is to spot depends how much these lizards valued knowledge. But if it would have any information on their tactics, their city layouts, or their weapons, it will be close to the middle so enemies couldn't get to it."

"What kind of enemies would these guys have anyway?" Peter gestured a bit wildly to the ghostly blue images of the Saurians that his doohickey was still projecting. "Look at them! Half of them could bite through Draxx."

That point made the three of them fall silent, Rocket nervously. The city hadn't been sacked, but it was clearly abandoned. Had the inhabitants been forced to retreat from this settlement, this planet? Who had been after them that would make someone flee a place so perfectly designed for defense.

"Maybe.. each other?"

Gamora's quietly offered suggestion made all three of them look around at the weird playback of history walking around them, then back at each other. "Library," Rocket stated, pointing toward the city center. "That way."

* * *

.

 

It was a long walk, what with getting turned around twice and finding dead end streets half a dozen times. It was as though some mad city planner had dumped out a bowl of cooked pasta noodles and decided that those would represent the streets, however they fell. As they finally came into the city center, Rocket had a spring in his step while Peter was a little wilted; it was hard to deny Rocket's theory of a fortress city after taking so long to get somewhere simple. It really was designed to confuse land-bound fighters, though Peter had to wonder what defenses they'd raise against aerial assault. Then again, maybe the weaponized satellite network took care of that before it could become a problem.

The library was a wide, oval building with a shallow dome topping it. Windows looked like they had jagged rainbow teeth from the remnants of stained glass that were still inside. Rocket thought that with all the stained glass in every building and the pennants and banners they'd seen with Peter's device that the whole city was done in a color code. Residents would know which color combinations meant what, while outsiders would be totally lost. It was an excellent tactic.

Once inside, they had split up to search through the shelves of books and recordings stored there. Over a few hours, they learned plenty of useless trivia, and a few important points. The Saurians were indeed the Sphere-Builders. They were indeed at war with their own kind, apparently over a matter of carnivore versus herbivore; it seemed as though the dwellers of this planet had been outcast for their cohabitation. The Sphere design had been intended to serve as homes out in extreme isolation so the residents could live in peace and not deal with pursuit. And there were multiple Spheres.

Peter sat at a table on a bench that would have been required furniture for a race with tails, scowling down at a computer screen, reviewing the information he could find on the Spheres. It was limited. Gamora sat opposite him, apparently fascinated by the information scrolling by on her screen. "Oh, look at this," she murmured.

Rocket hopped up onto the bench to stand beside her and peer at the computer screen as Peter looked up curiously. Gamora, without thinking about it, reached over to pet Rocket between ears that suddenly stood up in stiff surprise. The touch was like a magic spell designed to invoke a low and rumbly purr from the gruff tactician, a sound he ceased a moment after realizing it was happening. He didn't miss the slow smile that crossed emerald lips. Neither did Peter, who blinked in surprise and did a double-take between them, but he wisely said nothing. Just scowled. 

"Wait.. the herbivores were the aggressors?! Well that's just topsy-turvey." Rocket squinted down at the computer screen to make sure he'd read that right. "Maybe it was revenge for millions of years of being food, huh."

Gamora didn't react as if it were a jest from Rocket, she just nodded solemnly. It sounded right to her. "With the advancement of technology, they could finally get to the same step on the food chain as the carnivores. It would seem as though a large group of them from another colony were the aggressors here, demanding that herbivores and carnivores live separately. Because, quote, "Carnivores are lesser beings, driven by primitive urges into violence instead of accepting rational thought," which I believe goes to show that people are people no matter where you go." She sounded a bit disappointed that this marvelous civilization was as much bigotry and ego as any other. 

"And it looks like they got themselves some infiltrators. Smart; the herbivores there looked just like the herbivores here, so it would be easy to slip in a few spies. Smart," Rocket added, impressed by the ingenuity of the would-be-conquerors. "Must be what finally forced the ones here to look for greener pastures, so to speak. Inside giant metal spheres with big balls of plasma in the middle. Speaking of, check out what I found."

Rocket pushed a book over, the plastic-like pages rustling. It appeared to be a technical manual, all written in the Saurian language. But it wasn't words he pointed at, it was a series of diagrams showing a Sphere in space. "So the normal Dyson Sphere is built around a tiny star. Dwarf, usually, just because of the sheer size required. But this one is little; when it's active, it apparently gets power from being inside nebulae. Charges up, and when it's powered, an array on the inside generates a ball of plasma to act as the sun and yet another source of energy, while still being able to move the thing like a big round space station. Long as they were within nebulas."

Gamora looked a little blankly at Rocket, barely following the technicalities of the matter, but grasping the basic principle. Peter, on the other hand, frowned a little. "The one we found was right on the edge of a nebula. Maybe it used to be bigger, and a star formed inside or something and it started to shrink. Or maybe the Sphere just ate all the nebula it was touching."

Rocket nodded. "Hopefully it's got some power reserves that the Staff will activate, or it's going to need an awfully big tow ship. If it does, we can scoot it into the nebula to fully recharge before rolling off to Nova Corps. Hope their systems have a nice nebula nearby for a parking spot." He snickered, muzzle crinkling to show teeth as he hissed his amusement.

Peter stood, turning off the computer panel. "Alright. I think we've learned everything we need to know, assuming that manual hints at where production went down."

Small shoulders lifted in a shrug as Rocket tucked the manual into his pack for later light reading. "Doesn't get specific, but doesn't matter. It's in that big round building at the edge of town center." He sounded completely confident.

"How do you know this stuff?" Peter sounded frustrated even to himself and took a deep breath. "Fine. If you think that's where it is, let's go take a peek and see what we get."

* * *

Another couple of hours gone and they had what they came for. Half a dozen of the data cylinders, though Rocket thought a couple of them were duplicates. Never hurt to have backups, though, and he'd be happy to tinker with the spares. Plus, they'd found more intricate and detailed manuals, not just for Spheres but for dozens of machines from weapons to medical equipment. Those alone could fetch them a pretty penny, though there was no way the Guardians would be giving the Sphere manuals to anyone but Nova Corp. And of course one to keep for themselves. Just in case.

The hike out to the jungle was worse in the afternoon sun, but nobody complained. After learning about the near-demise and escape of an ancient culture, and the knowledge that soon they'd have control of one of the equally ancient Spheres, all of them had plenty on their minds. But Rocket wilted with a heavy sigh as they came into the partial clearing and he laid his eyes upon the damaged white ship. 

Gamora glanced over with sympathy, then cast a hopeful glance Peter's way. "Surely departure can wait until we get this vessel running properly again, Peter Quill. I am certain we have the tools on the Milano to complete repairs, and it shouldn't take more than a few hours."

Rocket lifted his shoulders and raised his head, ears perking hopefully. He grinned a toothy grin when Peter nodded. "Yeah, should be fine. Long as the two of you can get the repairs done; I want to study up on what we just got and the route for the trip to the Keystone Quadrant." He didn't notice Rocket wilt a little, continuing, "Plus we should be hearing from Draxx soon. I'll bring out the equipment and you two can tinker."

Actions suited words and soon Rocket was crawling around the engine room, nimbly reaching access ports that a normal person would have had to disassemble half the rig to get to. Gamora worked on the damage to the computer systems while Rocket stayed busy with the engines. It wasn't that bad, actually. Nothing needed replacing, just some minor repairs and adjustments.

And yet, though the work was simple, silence reigned in the engine room thick enough to poke with a stick. Sometimes Rocket would call for a particular tool and Gamora would place it in his extended paw, fingertips brushing fur lightly, and Rocket would twitch. Other times Gamora would find herself stuck at the computers and Rocket would come up close, leaning over her shoulder to make corrections, his proximity bringing a slight flush to her cheeks. It didn't feel like a time for words.

Eventually there was nothing else in need of tinkering. Rocket moved toward the ladder, intending to pop the hatch and head to the little bridge so they could be on their way when Gamora reached out to grab his arm. It felt like a static shock, making his tail quiver and he stopped dead in his tracks, tilting his head to peer at the elegant woman. "Wha.. what? Did I forget something?" He mentally cursed himself for the slight stammer in his rough voice.

Gamora nodded, the motion making soft red-tipped hair sway against the black of her jumpsuit. "You forgot talking," she said gently, a touch of uncertainty edging her next words. "We should do that… right?"

It was the uncertainty that made up Rocket's mind; maybe she was as confused by all this as he was. It was hard to believe. Gamora always seemed so confident, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, a woman who could calmly handle any crisis thrown at her. Yet talking to him made her nervous. That in turn made him a little nervous. "About last night, yeah, I'm sorry if things went too far, won't happen-" He cut off his anxious babble when Gamora waved a hand in front of his face, dismissing his words.

"No, no, that's not what I meant! I-" And she cut herself off, full lips curling in a slight introspective frown. This was far more difficult to admit than she had anticipated and she glanced down thoughtfully before continuing. "Rocket, I.. I enjoyed last night. I even remember most of it," she added with a soft, still-nervous chuckle. "But if that's too much for you, I understand." Gamora had been "too much" for plenty of people, so self-reliant and potentially dangerous it drove most away. It was sad to think that she might be too much for this cocky, outspoken, brilliant teammate. 

"Wait, what? No!" Rocket's ears drooped back and his whiskers slicked against his muzzle with a combination of alarm and surprise. "No, it wasn't too much! I just.. this is new." He snorted at his own dramatic understatement.

Shaking her head, Gamora let go of the raccoon's arm to take his paw in her hand instead. "I like you, Rocket. I like what we did. I… wonder if there can be more?" She had no idea why this was so difficult. She cared for Rocket, trusted him as a friend, knew him better than probably any of the team. Asking for more just made her so shaky, nervous that she'd be faced with rejection after putting herself out there. But that was the risk that would be taken to become more than friends.

"What, now?" Rocket intentionally misinterpreted, trying to bring a little levity to a situation he found pleasant but disconcerting. He was having a hard time believing that this was really happening. She was so independent, so beautiful, so confident. It was difficult to grasp that she'd want to be involved with him in such a fashion when she could have her pick of men.

Mischief glinted in brown eyes as a half-smile curved Gamora's lips. "Why not? We're alone. We've got plenty of time…" One hand raised to the zipper of her jumpsuit and pulled it downward, exposing a narrow expanse of emerald skin, the fabric strained over the swells of her breasts. 

Rocket drew a quick breath, dark eyes going wide within the mask of black fur. His ears stood practically straight up, and without really thinking about it his clever paws started unfastening the clips and zippers of his own suit. "Plenty of time.."


	4. Staff of the Hierophant #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plenty of time to indulge in passion before resuming the mission to gather the pieces of the Staff.

Plenty of time…

Gamora could tempt even the most stoic of men, and Rocket didn't hold that particular title. He hardly paid attention to what he was doing, paws moving by rote to remove weaponry and clothing, his focus entirely on the woman before him. He'd never really been especially attracted to a humanoid woman before, but even with his inexperience, he knew how beautiful Gamora was.

Every inch of her was perfectly toned, and the slow way she peeled off the snug jumpsuit drew the eager eye along the lines of her body. Emerald skin had a faint sheen like the finest satin, begging to be touched. She rolled her shoulders and let the jumpsuit part fully down the front while her arms dipped behind her body to tug the sleeves off. Firm breasts gave the faintest of sways as the fabric was pulled away from them, darker green nipples becoming taut and pebbly upon being exposed to the cool air of the engine room. Her stomach was not quite flat; contours showed the well-toned muscle beneath the flesh and rippled as she shifted her weight from one hip to the other, toeing off her boots (and losing a few inches of height in the process.) When she leaned forward, Rocket was entranced by the way her breasts hung, full and beautifully rounded; he reached out without thinking about it to give one nipple a light pinch, producing a hitch in her breath.

That hitch was a delight to hear. Rocket lost a bit of his nervousness with the reminder that he could bring her pleasure even though they were so very different. Gamora lifted her head, dark eyes gleaming softly with the first flares of arousal, then slowly peeled the jumpsuit down over her hips and stepped out of it, leaving it a black puddle of fabric on the floor. She straightened, and Rocket's enraptured gaze drifted to her feet and slowly made its way up shapely legs. Her legs were just incredible, and Rocket might have been perfectly content to stare, except he reached the top of her thighs and became transfixed by the soft tuft of brown hair he'd buried his nose in several nights ago in an alcohol-fueled haze. He remembered the scent of her, hot and musky, so inviting. Even so briefly thinking back on that night, on her scent --on the sweetly tangy taste of her-- made him squirm. He felt his stomach muscles tense and let out a soft rumble of a growl as the sheath on his belly swelled, the rounded pink tip of his cock slipping out from amid cream and brown fur.

He looked back up at the elegant woman and found her gaze had lowered; she was watching his member push out from the sheath with fascination, her full lips slightly parted, one hand pushing back the wavy fall of red and brown hair that framed her sculpted features. "See something you like?" The cocky bravado in his teasing question was at least half-false; Rocket still wondered what she saw in him, when she could have men more like herself lined up to please her.

"I might say the same to you," Gamora replied with a slow, sensuous grin. A chuckle edged her husky voice, dark and playful. She no longer had any nervousness about this; the so-rare shyness was gone now that she was more certain of him. She knew he found her attractive, but more importantly, it wasn't just her body he was attracted to. He knew her, including her flaws and her past, and he still wanted her, and that made all the difference in the world.

In truth, she wasn't really all that attracted to him physically. She saw the outside, the altered animal, and that was not normally a thing that would bring her to lust. But she knew him. Cocky, brilliant, grating, passionate; all those qualities blended together so she couldn't help but be attracted to him emotionally, mentally. The sure knowledge that he could bring her to incredible orgasm with just his hands and mouth was enough to raise plenty of lust by itself, and such stray thoughts made her shiver. She could feel slickness in her nethers and knew that the scent of her would be in the air. She watched as he sniffed the air, pupils dilating with intense arousal.

Watching his thickening shaft slowly push out from the sheath at his belly turned her on even more. She remembered very well how rigid that rod was; the flesh had some give, but at the core it was as hard as bone. That smooth skin had tasted almost spicy on her tongue, like something exotic and just a little wild, and she had savored the flavor as he'd thrust into her mouth. Even more, the memory of the hot salty ropes of cum she'd so eagerly swallowed had her thirsting for more. She licked her lips, then bit the lower one lightly, staring down at him. "How do you want me?" Her voice was damn near a purr.

Rocket blinked as if coming out of a daze; his thoughts had been lost in memories of the other night while his gaze had been pinned by her exotic beauty. He shook his head a little as if to clear away fog and glanced away, pondering exactly that question. Positions would have to be clever to please them both, given his size. Niggling doubts encroached on his growing lust; why should she want someone so different than herself? But he banished those thoughts, wanting to focus on her, on this. There had to be a way…

Looking around, his gaze fell on the ladder that was placed along one of the coolant storage tanks. "Over there," he murmured, hardly aware of how thick with lust his voice was. "Put your back to the ladder and hold on to the top rung." Little did he realize that he sounded just a touch demanding, most of his anxieties now buried beneath desire.

Gamora pursed her lips a little and turned to look where Rocket was indicating with one paw. Curious, she walked over to the ladder, hips swaying in an almost hypnotic fashion. She put her back against it, shivering at the sensation of cool metal against warm skin. The tank was just a little taller than her; she reached back behind her head to lightly grasp the top rung, then rested her head back against her clutching hands. One brow arched as she looked over inquisitively at Rocket.

Aching with a desire that had his cock twitching now and again against the soft fur of his belly, Rocket paced over to stand in front of her. He stepped in close enough that she could feel his breath washing over the neat triangle of dark hair between her thighs, and grinned when he saw her shiver. He put his hands inside her thighs just above her knees and pushed, encouraging her to adopt a spread-legged stance. Looking up at her face, he could see the question in her eyes; what was he going to do with her standing like this? He trusted that her excessively good shape and years of training would give her the strength to keep herself in that position until he was done.

Warm fur brushed her inner thighs as Rocket moved forward another step, putting himself between her legs. The sensation was pleasant enough that she let out a soft cooing sound, eyes half-closing. Her eyes snapped wide again when she felt his tongue lap between sensitive folds. That skin had the texture of velvet and Rocket could taste that tangy sweetness again; he licked more firmly to savor the taste and to tease his tongue over the tender pearl of her clit.

Much as Rocket ached to just fuck her, to shove deep inside and start pounding, he wanted to warm her up like this. Hopefully he'd even get her to climax; that way he'd be assured that she'd gotten plenty of pleasure out of the experience if his idea for positioning didn't work out the way he'd intended. Besides, eating her out was a pretty incredible experience by itself; he was so aroused by her flavor, by the building slickness between folds that parted like petals of a flower. 

Gamora really hadn't needed any foreplay; the memories of the other night had done plenty to work her up and make her wet and ready. But she wasn't about to say no to this. She'd have a hard time forming even that one-syllable word; all she could manage was pants that grew deeper and more ragged as Rocket kept licking. He was so good at finding just the right spot, tonguing at her clit until the thin hood of skin pushed back a little and let him lick along the over-sensitive exposed nub of flesh. Her arms and thighs quivered, though with pleasure rather than strain, and she gripped the rung of the ladder with both hands so tightly her knuckles grew pale. Even the occasional light scrapes of small, sharp teeth made her catch her breath, and she could feel heat building up low in her belly and beginning to spread. Her breasts swayed as her chest heaved with her deeper breaths and she couldn't prevent a sharp, high whine from sliding out between gritted teeth. When he slipped his long tongue into her pussy her breath caught for long moments, only to release in a low moan as he flicked his tongue against the little rough patch just inside her squeezing tunnel. It was enough to make tangy, slick liquid drip into his mouth, and she knew he was drinking it down with as much eagerness as she'd drank his pre-cum. 

That thought made her all of a sudden ache to be able to touch him, to grasp his cock and start stroking. It felt incredibly unfair that he could be there between her thighs forcing so much pleasure on her, while she was prevented by their position from doing the same to him. She squirmed, but she may as well have been tied to the ladder; Gamora couldn't make herself pull away. Instead, her breath quickened and she let her head loll back, each exhale edged with moans that grew higher and louder as pleasure built.

Finally it was more than she could stand. The muscles of her arms bunched as her knees quivered, then buckled slightly under the waves of pleasure that started crashing down. Her stomach rippled as her tunnel squeezed tight, hot nectar spilling into Rocket's greedy mouth. She let out a sharp cry, then started panting quickly for breath, letting her head drop forward so she could stare down at him as he licked her so-sensitive flesh even more eagerly. He looked back up at her, seeing the darkened eyes so wide, the flush to her cheeks; it gave him great pleasure to see how lost in bliss he was able to make her. After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped teasing more shivers out of her with his tongue and leaned back a little, licking his muzzle clean of the dew-like drops of moisture that clung to the short fur. He looked so smug. "Stop teasing and fuck me," Gamora growled down at him.

"Bossy," Rocket murmured in teasing reply. He considered staying right where he was, seeing how many orgasms he could get out of the panting woman using just mouth and paws, but his cock almost ached, the steady throbs making the shaft twitch now and again. He wanted her too badly to be able to keep teasing her.

He hopped up onto the ladder, back paws clinging to the rungs behind Gamora's quivery thighs, hands going to hold the rung behind her lower back, putting his arms around her waist. Rocket grinned slyly when her wide-eyed look said she'd suddenly realized why she was up against the ladder, and she tightened her grip on the rung behind her head while drawing a slow, shaky breath.

This time, Rocket didn't lack his trademark confidence; she told him just what she wanted, banishing any nervous doubts that may have lingered. Still, he took his time situating himself between her thighs, letting his rigid shaft rub along her slick pussy. Even just that felt beyond incredible and he closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. He could feel the heat of her body so strongly, parted folds warm and wet at either side of his cock; Rocket could even feel the nub of her clit pressing against hard flesh. He stopped shifting for positioning and started moving his hips back and forth, grinding his dick over her swollen clit again and again. It started to send little shudders up and down his spine, making his stomach muscles go tense. His ears perked to hear Gamora whimper uncharacteristically and the sound drew his gaze upward. She was staring hotly down at him, jaw slack and lips parted, still breathing hard. There was demand in that darkened, unfocused look, a demand that Rocket was suddenly eager to answer.

Making sure he had his footing --a benefit of being a raccoon let him grip with both sets of paws and cling to the ladder with her in between-- he shifted his weight a little more, then pulled his hips back. The slow and steady motion dragged his cock along her tender nethers until the rounded, blunt tip settled against the dip of her entrance. The hot wetness was so enticing. At a languid pace, he pushed his hips forward, gasping with Gamora when the head slid in. The breath let out in a soft growl; he badly wanted to just shove forward, to pound her hard and fast until they were both rendered breathless, but that would be too "animal". No, he had to pace himself for her, though he was perfectly capable of staying hard for multiple rounds. He suddenly wondered how many rounds a woman like Gamora could take..

With just two inches of dick inside her, Rocket started slowly rocking his hips back and forth, using the curve at the end of his cock to tease along her G-spot. It was just as easy to find this way as it had been with his tongue, and he was rewarded by shaky gasps from his lover. --His lover.. it had been so long since he'd been able to think of anyone that way..-- He gritted his sharp teeth to muffle a groan with only some success; he saw Gamora's lust-darkened eyes light up at the soft sound and decided to not hold back with noises of pleasure anymore. Not if it would make her look at him that way.

She stared down at Rocket, wanting to demand he go faster, harder, but Gamora was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to form the required words. It had been a very long time for her, and now he teased! But it felt so good; that smooth back and forth of his hips had the rounded head of his cock rubbing constantly over her G-spot and each stroke made her limbs quiver. She bit her lower lip, but it didn't prevent soft whimpers from emerging with each breath; Gamora had to concentrate to keep her firm ass against the ladder. The urge to buck was remarkable, but it would break his hold on the rungs. Clever Rocket, figuring out a position like this that would work for both of them. She wondered what other positions they could try.

The ladder still felt chill against emerald skin, from her shoulders to her calves there were bars of coolness. Everywhere else felt as though it were overheating, as though steam should be coming off of her. If they'd been in the cockpit, the windows would be completely fogged over from the heat they were generating together. She wished she could do more, move more, but he'd put her up against the ladder and she couldn't really move with him. Gamora had no choice but to hold on and keep still; mentally, she vowed that next time she'd tie him to something and see how he liked it.

When he groaned, lust spiked higher for her, sending a surge of heat through her belly that had her knees briefly shaky. She wanted to hear that sound again, wanted to make him have to cry out his pleasure, but he was in control of the pace. Head lowered, she stared down at him with eyes that barely focused, ringlets of red-tipped brown hair swaying as she gasped for breath. "Harder," she managed to get out in a low moan.

Rocket's fuzzy ears lifted at the sound of her moan, of the request within it. Part of him wanted to stay slow, wanted to savor that heated sensation of her tunnel squeezing his cock every time he nudged her G-spot, but the rest had been aching to pound her. It would hardly do for him to deny a lady her request. Gripping the bars a little tighter, he hunkered down between her thighs and with a sudden shove forward, buried his cock to the hilt in her wet pussy. The cry she gave was music to his ears, mingling with his own shaky groan of pleasure. He might not have had the size that her previous lovers had boasted, but he had the precision to rub against all the right places, and he took advantage.

He stared off slow at first, pulling back until just the rounded head was left in the heat of her tunnel, then pushing forward until his entire dick was engulfed and squeezed tight. He angled his hips so each thrust would rub up against that so-tender little patch of flesh, delighting in each quivering jerk her body gave in response. His own breathing was faster now, and just as shaky as hers was. Once he was certain of his grip, he let go of the bar with one hand. That hand caressed over her breast with a light drag of claws, making her coo in pleasure, then drifted down her stomach. He tilted his head up to watch her eyes get a bit wide, watch her tongue flick to lick her lips before he slid his paw between their bodies and pressed the heel of his hand against her engorged clit. He flashed her a wicked grin as her eyes fluttered shut and started rubbing that tender bit of flesh back and forth in rhythm with his thrusts.

She could hardly stand it. The pleasure had already been soaring when he was just bucking into her, hitting her G-spot with each thrust, but the addition of stimulation to her tender clitoris was almost more than she could take. Heat built up low in her body, spreading tendrils of warmth outward that left her shivering. Her stomach muscles tensed in a slow ripple, and she knew that Rocket would feel it as a slow tightening around his cock when he pushed deep into her. Her breath came in short pants between gritted teeth, each exhale tinged with whimpers that grew steadily higher in pitch. That spreading heat ached, tension drawing out and out until she felt as though she might snap. She needed to snap, needed that rush of release, and she knew she'd get it soon. "Harder," she whispered shakily, breath hitching in her throat, so close to the edge.

And he obliged. Rocket started thrusting harder, producing a muffled slap of smooth skin against fur as he bucked, barely pulling back before each shove, keeping himself buried deep. She wanted to watch him, but tension drew her upper body into an arch and left her with her head tossed back, jaw slack and sharp moans passing her lips with increasing speed. Each thrust brought a gasp that was released in a sound of almost-bliss, and that heat stretched tighter within her, leaving her limbs quivering and her stomach tense. Finally, as he shoved deep and rubbed his paw harder, faster over her clit, that release she craved finally came. She cried out loudly, the sound of ecstasy echoing through the engine room as her body undulated, abdominal muscles clenching, then relaxing only to snap tense again. Heat flooded through her in a radiant burst and hot nectar flowed around Rocket's twitching cock and dripped out to soak his fur in her scent.

Rocket had been holding back, trying to keep a tight leash on his own pleasure, wanting her to climax before he let go himself. His eyes snapped open wide when he felt her tunnel closing tightly around his cock and he looked up, almost awed by the bliss etched in her features. He felt the rush of liquid around his aching shaft and gasped sharply when that slick flood soaked into his fur, so hot. Upon feeling that, hearing her cry out, there was no way he could hold himself back anymore. His hand lifted from her slippery clit and reached to again grasp the bar. Once he had a good grip, he started bucking into her as hard and fast as he could, the impacts strong enough to make her full breasts sway and jiggle right in front of his face. Despite the erotic beauty of the view, he found his eyes closing as his cock throbbed; his muscles tensed all over until he nearly ached from it, but it didn't slow him down. His breath was tiny hisses through clenched sharp teeth that his muzzle had crinkled to bare. He had to resist the urge to bite at her, to mark her with those teeth. Finally, with a last thrust that ended in a hard grind against her pussy, he threw his head back with a shout of releasing tension, ropes of thick and sticky cum flooding her clinging tunnel in hot spurts.

Time seemed to stop, replaced by utter rapture and the heaving of gasping breath, the wild and musky scent of sex filling the small engine room. Neither of them knew how long they were frozen in place like that, writhing as they grinded against each other to draw out the mutual pleasure. Finally, Rocket let out a breath and slowly pulled his hips back until his still-rigid cock slipped out of the heated clutch of her pussy. She whined softly in protest, but he wasn't entirely certain of his grip anymore. Shakily, he moved down the ladder until his back paws hit the floor, then took a few steps backward until he could flop down into a seated position with his hands behind him to keep himself steady and upright. She slowly sank to her knees, thighs spread, unaware of the dripping salty liquid that slowly spilled from her pussy to form a small puddle between her calves. Gamora sat back on her heels and tried to catch her breath.

"Hard enough… for ya?" Rocket managed to ask, though the teasing aspect of his tone was a little sullied by his need to gasp between words. Gamora snickered and nodded, dark hair swaying over her breasts, a faint sheen of sweat making her emerald skin glisten.

"Kay," he murmured, then leaned back to stretch out on the floor, still trying to catch his breath. "Now as long as I.. don't need to move.. for a while, I'll be-"

Static buzzed loudly as the ship's intercom flared to life, making Rocket sit bolt upright and Gamora sit up straight, eyes wide. "What is taking you guys so long? It's not that big of a ship! Hurry up; we gotta go meet up with Drax!" Another snap of static and the comm went dead.

Never before had Peter's voice been less welcome. Rocket groaned while Gamora let out a heavy sigh. "He's right… perhaps we did not have quite as much time as we might have hoped." Gamora frowned, glancing between her legs; the sight of that pale puddle made her shiver in remembered pleasure. Then she looked around and up, inquisitive. "Please tell me this little ship has a shower on it somewhere. If we go back like this, neither of us will ever hear the end of it."

* * *

The white ship did indeed have a small shower, and both Rocket and Gamora made sure to make thorough use of it. Separately, lest they become distracted again. Gamora, lacking any fur in need of scrubbing, cleaned up the bit of a mess they'd left in the engine room, and then they both took their seats in the cockpit to fly up and meet the Milano.

With the smaller, as-yet unnamed ship in tow, Rocket and Gamora headed on to the Milano's bridge to meet up with the rest of the crew. One day, Rocket would have to give his new toy a name. Just at the moment, however, he was too distracted with recent events to put much brain-power into coming up with something clever.

"What took you guys?" Peter groused at them when they came up to the stellar chart table. "What, did you have to build new engines?"

Fortunately, with her green skin, blushes wouldn't show in the dim lighting of the chamber. Gamora just rolled her eyes. "Things take as long as they take. What is the hurry? We will make the rendezvous on time, and even if we're a little late, Drax is hardly likely to object."

Rocket nodded, then blinked as he noticed Groot staring at him. The potted crew-mate, still in the process of growing back to a bipedal shape, was watching with eyes that slowly widened as though reaching an epiphany. He stared first at Rocket, then at Gamora, then back at Rocket. "I.. am Groot? I am Groot!"

For once, Rocket was incredibly grateful for the fact that he was the only one capable of understanding the plant-person. Apparently no amount of regular washing would take scent away enough to evade Groot's ..lack-of-nose --how did he smell, anyway? Regardless, he'd figured out what had taken so long, and Rocket shushed him firmly. "No, Groot, you still can't play with the data cylinders. Not unless we find spares."

Star Lord seemed to accept the conversation in the background, but Gamora twitched slightly and peered at her potted friend; it occurred to her that Groot might have caught on, especially with the shushing from Rocket. She breathed a soft sigh of relief when the exchange didn't continue; Groot just stared at Rocket with abject fascination, mouth opened in a little round 'o'. 

"Whatever," replied Peter. "Get strapped in; we need to get going. We're meeting Drax on the edge of the Keystone Quadrant." A little half-grin crossed handsome features, a chuckle tinting his voice. "And we'll see what all he managed to bring with him upon parting company with our strange Collector friend."

"Oh, that's right! You traded him!" Rocket's mirth showed in the twitching of his muzzle and the little hisses of snickering that got through sharp teeth. "Man, betcha there's some serious buyer's remorse going on by now!"

Gamora just shook her head. She supposed a fight over possession of the data cylinders was better than outright thievery, but not by much. Being with this crew occasionally strained her sense of honor. She moved to take a seat at the co-pilot console, and was joined shortly thereafter by Rocket at the pilot console. "You know the way, Rocket," Gamora said with a touch of gentle sympathy in her voice, just barely there. "Take us out."

* * *

Several days of unremarkable travel passed, and the fates seemed to conspire against Gamora and Rocket having any further time alone. There was always an asteroid field to be navigated, or Groot was in need of attention and mobility, or Peter was blaring his music loudly through the ship. They only had brief moments to exchange a quick passing touch to convey continuing interest.

Rocket was no longer nervous about this sudden change in relationships. Gamora had shown him that, for whatever reason, she really did want him and that it wasn't a one-time fling on the wild side. Besides, any capacity for nervousness he had was directed at their destination: Halfworld.

He vividly remembered how it was when he'd left. The Loonies were sharing the cure of a special "toy" the robots had made off of the animal's plans, and they'd all seemed to be recovering, even those so far gone as to be catatonic. Rocket marveled a bit at that; he'd had nothing to do with the toy design that took up a great deal of the animals interests; Lylla's family had come into their wealth through a toy company, but even the otter couldn't keep Rocket's attention when she was going on about toys. He still missed her now and then, but with just a touch of wistfulness instead of any real loneliness. He'd moved past that part of his life when he'd left Halfworld. 

Many of the animals had left, in fact. In a giant spaceship shaped like a humanoid form, of all things. Rocket wondered what the original plan of the robots had been for that strangely-designed spaceship. He wondered what happened to the robots, for that matter. Most of the Loonies had stayed, about half of the animals had left, but there was nothing remaining for the robots to do besides equip the animals and the now-stable Loonies with the machines they needed for their daily lives. Were the robots bitter over this? Had they planned on escaping on their ironically-shaped spaceship? Well, in order to do that, they'd need the codes, and nobody was about to hand over the key to the Galacian Wall.

Or..

Rocket stared blankly ahead as they came close enough to the star system to get a clear look on the viewscreen. The golden hued shield that had kept the Loonies safe was.. gone.

"Um. Guys?"

Gamora glanced over from her console, inquisitive concern showing in elegant features. "Is something the matter, Rocket?" Peter sat up straighter in the Captain's chair, curious.

"Well, no, not anything 'the matter' per se, except we're missing a big giant star-system encompassing wall and I have no idea what that means for Halfworld. Other than that, no biggie." Sarcasm hung around him in a grumpy cloud.

Gamora frowned, brows furrowing, and looked at the readouts on her console. "No sign of any sort of forcefield. But I am getting life-signs from one of the planets. Given that it's the one with one side green and blue, and the other side gray, I think it is safe to assume that it is Halfworld, and it is still inhabited."

"But by who," Rocket muttered to himself, then started scanning for other things in their vicinity. "Hey, I'm picking up another ship approaching. Kinda big, decently armed.. think it's Drax?"

"Pretty good bet," Peter replied, then opened up a comm channel with the approaching ship. "That you, Drax?"

A blurt of static came, followed by a robust and familiar voice. "It is I! I have succeeded in bamboozling the Collector! This ship is amazing; you must come and visit it when we are done with this strange planet!"

"Did you get the cylinders, buddy?"

"Of course! I would not fail to complete my mission! I will come aboard and give them to you; they should be fitted with the rest so that we may see how many more we will need to acquire. Come, link with our new ship! I am eager to be about the rest of this mission." Only Drax could make getting a few data cylinders sound on par with single-handedly defeating a galactic monster.

* * *

Peter, Gamora, Rocket, and Drax sat in a circle around the table. Groot sat in a pot on top of it. The data cylinders were scattered across the surface, some connected, some not. Most were black as onyx with minute silvery wires running over the curved surface like veins, but two were not quite as shiny.

"I can't believe he had fakes." Peter sighed as heavily as if he had been informed that the world was about to come to a quiet and bland end. 

"I cannot believe that he conned me! How dare he!? The Collector will pay for this impudent and dishonest behavior!" Drax slammed a fist on the table to emphasize his point, making Groot's pot give a little bounce and causing the cylinders to roll.

Gamora smirked and cleared her throat. "We can hardly call him out on his dishonesty, given that we were there to rob him. Once our business on Halfworld is concluded, we will simply have to find him again and.. convince him of the error of his ways."

Rocket grinned toothily. "I got plenty of methods of some real solid convincing."

"We'll start with non-explosive convincing," Gamora quickly put in. Groot stated urgently that he was Groot and nodded in agreement. 

"You're no fun," Rocket sulked at Gamora.

Gamora just lofted an eyebrow and gave him a very bland, droll look. Rocket blinked and muttered under his breath, going back to innocently playing with the cylinders, not trying to figure out a way to attach them to bombs at all.

Not believing the innocence for a second, but not really having grounds to point anything out, Gamora returned her attention to Peter and Drax. "Fine. Once we have what we need from this place, we can see about getting the real cylinders from the Collector. Until then, we should focus on this planet. Apparently, the long-standing shield people called the Galacian wall has been taken down. No one has any thoughts as to why, but it indicates a big enough recent change to warrant some added caution when we land." She turned her dark gaze to Rocket. "Which should be where?"

Out of pure habit, Rocket's nimble paws had tucked the data cylinders he'd been tinkering with into one of the many pockets on his orange flight suit. He then snorted softly and put them back on the table. "I mean, the safe place would be over on the green side. That's where the Loonies and the animals lived; a lot have probably left but I'm sure some aspect of the old society is still down there. But what we need is almost definitely gonna be over on the industrial side. Along with many many robots who have had years to design and build who knows what, and they may not be too happy if we come traipsing in to claim bits of machinery."

"I scoff at danger," Drax declared. "If what we need is on that ugly gray side, than that is the side we shall land upon! Let the lunatics and their pets go about their business."

The flight suit kept the bristling of Rocket's fur down his spine from being visible, but his plush ringed tail suddenly puffed out larger as the brown and black hairs stood on end. Gamora reached over and briefly put her hand atop his head between his ears, a reminder perhaps that Drax had not been present when the nature of Halfworld and Rocket's own origins were discussed. It worked; the raccoon settled slowly with a huff. "Fine. Industry side it is." Rocket got up, turning to head down the couple of stairs so he could take his place at the pilot's console. "No promises what it's like these days."

Drax tilted his head and leaned over to Gamora, dropping his voice to his version of a whisper, which was still perfectly audible to perked raccoon ears. "I did not know he had a history with this place. Will this put our mission in any jeopardy?"

Gamora shook her head while Rocket pretended to have heard none of this. "If anything, it'll be a benefit." A small frown curved her lips and she glanced over her shoulder at the strange planet getting closer on the view screen. "Assuming things have not changed terribly much, at least."

* * *


	5. Staff of the Hierophant #5

Rocket was getting bored. They'd done repeated sweeps over the gray side of Halfworld, not just looking for a place to land, but scoping out what was going on where. At least they'd learned some things; most of the industrial side of Halfworld was shut down. Only in one area was there a cluster of activity, and that revolved around a large tower that Rocket recognized as being the headquarters of Larking Toys. Neon letters several people tall used to top the building, but a few of them were dark now, leaving the only lit letters to spell out 'King Toy'. It seemed vaguely ominous, to Rocket.

Around the tower, buildings were in reasonable repair, and movement was easily detected with the sensors from just above the level of thick smog; clearly, there was something going on down there, but Rocket knew they wouldn't have a good idea of what until they actually landed. He was never an overly-cautious type, and to his mind, they were wasting time continuing to take readings from up in the gray pollution-filled sky. "Just land already," he muttered under his breath, peering out one of the windows as though he could make out what went on below. Everyone else may have been cautious, but he was curious. That, and he wanted to be done with the place.

"Alright, may as well park somewhere outside the active circle and we'll walk in from there," Peter stated with confidence that wasn't exactly resounding. He didn't know what was down there either, aside from a pile of machines of questionable intelligence and intention. But Rocket immediately perked up and hopped back into the pilot's chair, nimble paws dashing over the console to start taking them downward. Finally, they could actually do something.

* * *

He felt like he should have brought one of the breathing masks from the Milano's emergency kits with him. The air seemed thick, and breathing it in was like breathing smoke; it made his lungs hitch as though he were constantly on the verge of coughing. Whatever the robotics had been up to, it hadn't been cleaning up the environment. There was a haze in the air that made late afternoon seem much closer to dusk.

The streets were as oppressive as the air in their own way. Most of the tall buildings were dark, windows gaping empty of glass and broken bricks piled on cracked sidewalks, the narrow streets seeming like a shallow canyon between the towering, crumbling structures that lined either side of the rut-riddled road. There were no buildings that were shaped like homes either, and why would there be? This was a city of machines, and there was no need to ruin efficiency by having something as trivial as a building where one stored oneself or gathered possessions. It was as if the hive mind of technology had gotten out of control and spread like a virus across half the planet, destroying anything natural as inefficient and rising up warehouses and towers instead.

More disturbing, in a way, was the silence. The height of the structures kept wind from coursing down along street level, so the air was completely still. In a place so filled with technology, the absence of the whirs and clanks of machinery seemed incredibly out of place, making the four of them uneasy. Gamora stepped as though sneaking through enemy territory, hesitant to add sound to the desolate and silent cityscape, while Drax kept jumping at shadows and peering anxiously into alleys; he seemed to expect attack to roar out at them and break the quiet. Even Peter looked troubled, and didn't put on his frequently-present headphones; music would be jarring here, even if he was the only one who could hear it.

They were in near-darkness; while street lamps arched over the roadways and sidewalks, none were lit. But up ahead, they could see lights. They were approaching the area that their sensors insisted held some sort of activity, and even through the veneer of smog they could see lights marching in an orderly fashion upward on the central tower. They could even just make out the garish neon red letters warning of 'King Toy'.

A turn of a corner, and suddenly they were in light. It was so startlingly abrupt that all four Guardians stopped mid-step and froze, hands twitching near weapons, eyes darting back and forth in search of trouble. Rocket slowly looked upward at the street lamp. The puddle of light they stood in was an anomaly, bright and steady while further up the road most of the lamps were just dim memories of light and the few that did glow did so fitfully, flickering to cast eerie shadows on the narrow street. 

"Rocket, this place is giving me the serious creeps," muttered Peter just loudly enough to be heard. Even with his care to stay quiet, his voice seemed entirely too loud for the disturbingly still street. "Did you finish that gadget?"

Rocket wanted to give a snappy retort, but Peter wasn't the only one with a serious case of the creeps. This massive mega-city used to be bustling all day and all night, every day of the week; to have it suddenly be a ghost town had him filled with unease. "Yeah. It'll start beeping when we're close to the cylinders. Give us an arrow for direction so we're not stuck playing 'Hot or Cold' in the middle of the street." Even his voice was quiet, a low growling hiss that didn't carry as much as Peter's muttering had. Already he was regretting rigging his gadget to beep, wishing he'd opted for a quieter notification. "C'mon," he said reluctantly, moving out of the oddly comforting circle of light. "They'll be around what's left of civilization; the robotics would never have let such high tech go to waste."

* * *

Being in the occupied part of the sprawling city was, if possible, even less comfortable than the ghost town. All of them had been jumping at shadows since a wheeled robot had rolled out of the alley. It had paused as though staring at them, though the boxy shape had no eyes to speak of. Then it had rotated and taken off down the street at unlikely speed, leaving the Guardians to stare after it and wonder what to make of the brief encounter.

Now, they followed the faint beeping of Rocket's gadget. Some buildings were lit from within, while others stood dark and ominous, and shadows flickered through the streets unnervingly. It was even still mostly quiet, though lacking the utter silence that the outer edges had. Robots were moving through the streets too, though they made very little noise themselves, and most paid no attention to the Guardians. They moved in odd harmony, each carrying out whatever task it was assigned. They likely did the same thing the day before, and the day before that, stretching back to the day they were made. They certainly didn't appear to have anything like sentience, but they weren't very sophisticated either. Rocket speculated that they were factory robots, used in assembly and transportation in the toy factories that were still running. This knowledge didn't make it any less disconcerting to watch them go about their mechanized dance, and every turn they made seemed to bring them closer to that massive tower. 'King Toy'.

The closer they got, the more robots they saw, and they started to be more complex machines, some even designed in humanoid shape. "See," Rocket murmured, "That's creepy. First they build a person-shaped ship, now they build person-shaped robots."

"I do not like it here," rumbled an uneasy Drax. The huge fighter had been on edge the whole trip, and it got worse the longer they went without actually encountering anything. To him, the whole city felt like it was waiting, a trap about to be sprung. "There's nothing to fight. Nothing to even talk to. But it feels like we are being observed."

Gamora frowned a little and found herself nodding absently. She only twitched at shadows because it constantly felt as though there were something in those shadows, staring. Starlord shook his head, then blinked and pursed his lips, peering down at Rocket."-Is- there something to talk to? Like, can we ask a robot for directions?"

Rocket snickered at the thought, the sound just a few quiet hisses, and when he spoke his voice was still low. "I doubt most of this junk would even understand what you were saying, 'less you speak binary. Could try with one of the humanoid shaped ones; maybe they made 'em to interact with the Loonies." Assuming there still were Loonies.

"I do not see why we keep combing these streets. It is obvious that our destination is at the home of the Toy King," grumbled Drax, fingers twitching near the paired daggers at his waist.

"Toy Ki- oh." Rocket shook his head, muzzle crinkling in wry amusement. "That used to be one of the big competitive toy factories." The small tactician paused, peering at the little screen on his gadget. The arrow did seem to point unerringly toward the red-topped tower in question. "I suppose we can just head there. Maybe on the way we'll find a-"

Rocket cut off as all four Guardians jumped back from the car-sized machine that suddenly came around a corner and stopped right in front of them. "It's scanning us," said Peter, though his hand was on his favorite gun; he was peering down at the red horizontal line that slowly moved down his torso, a scanning projection from the blocky machine. It seemed to hover about a foot off of the tattered pavement. "Hey!" He snapped his fingers in the direction of the machine, as though that would somehow get its attention. "Do you talk? We're looking for-"

"Biologicals detected." The voice was high and melodic, feminine, completely at odds with the vehicle-like bulk in front of them. The Guardians waited, though Rocket was already getting a sinking feeling. "Commence sanitization protocol."

"…run." Rocket hesitated, waiting to see the realization of danger come to Gamora; when she started running, he did too. Everyone scattered in four different directions as the street behind them was suddenly bright with gouts of fire jetting from the cleaner machine. It seemed to lock on to Peter and sped after him, far more quickly than its bulky gracelessness should allow.

"Guys… a little help here!" Peter turned while running to fire off a few shots at the machine and sighed heavily when they did little beyond damaging the dark red paint job.

"Get around behind it!" Rocket suited action to words, skittering partway up a half-crumbled wall to leap, landing behind the hulking cleaner. "It's only got fire on the front!" He frowned, murmuring to himself, "I hope."

"Great! How do I get behind it?!" Peter's voice did that squawking thing it sometimes did when he was extremely stressed. It was punctuated by another few pot shots that did very little.

"Not you, Star Lunch!" Rocket cackled, hopping on top of the bulky machine and searching for a latch to pop it open with. "You've gotta keep its attention! Just.. jog around the block. It'll be good for you."

Peter's reply was unkind and anatomically unlikely.

As Peter turned a corner, leading the blocky sanitizer out into the crossroads with fire nipping at his heels, Gamora darted out from where she'd taken cover to leap and join Rocket atop the loudly whirring machine. "What's the plan?"

"We're gonna open this casing," he grunted as he tugged at a dip in the metal; it squealed gratingly before popping open to reveal the intricate hodgepodge of tubes, wires, and gears within, "And we're gonna figure out how to turn it off!"

Gamora nervously watched as Peter continued to run away from the hazardous machine; he'd given up on taking shots at it and instead focused on staying ahead of the gouts of flame. No wonder the city was so quiet. With machines like this around and active, not even bugs could stay around for long. Then she dropped her gaze to Rocket. The raccoon was muttering under his breath to himself, clawed finger pointing at a tube, then following it to where it connected as though he was attempting to build a blueprint of the machine's inner workings in his mind. Gamora rolled her eyes and huffed with impatience. One hand dropped to the hilt at her belt and she withdrew the compressed sword from the sheath. Whirling it so she held it reverse-grip, she slammed the point downward and buried the blade half its length in the mass of wires and cables, then shook it around vigorously. With a melancholy whine that lowered in pitch, the engine sputtered and died, bringing the machine to a halt and cutting off the sprays of fire. Rocket looked up at her with an expression rather like a pout. "I was figuring it out!"

"Not fast enough," replied Gamora in a clipped voice. "Peter? Are you well?"

Star Lord was bent forward, hands on his knees, gulping in breaths of air that mostly made him want to cough. "Great. Peachy. Right as rain." Sarcasm was evident even with the gasping breaths.

Drax, coming up beside Peter, fixed the human with a baffled stare. "How can rain be right? It has no opinions. You humans have strange notions." He shook his head as though saddened by Peter's lack of understanding.

Rocket made as if to say something, then sighed instead, turning his attention to the street they'd been heading down before such a rude interruption. "Let's go, huh? I don't want to give any other biology-haters time to find us." He was met with no disagreement.

* * *

It took longer than any of them would have thought to get to the tall building marked 'King Toy'. Some streets were found to have barricades placed across them, while others were made impassible by crumbled buildings. The closer they got, though, the tidier things became. More lights held true, less rubble littered the streets, and most of the buildings were intact even to the windows. 

What disconcerted the four Guardians was how the local technology improved as well. Machines still moved in familiar-to-them patterns, going about their business, but they were far more complex. Walking the streets were even humanoid constructs that looked around alertly as if there was intelligence buried in their circuits somewhere. Without discussing it, all four Guardians wordlessly avoided these; it seemed all too likely that they would object to 'organics' far more than that street sweeper had.

"We should not go in the front," stated Drax in a wary, hushed voice as they studied the tower. "I do not know if these machines would set guards or have patrols, but best to go on as if they do. Quickly. This place irks me."

Peter nodded in agreement, slowly moving to peer around a corner. The lights were all bright here, leaving little shadow to hide in, but the back of the tower faced a narrow alley that was as good a place to duck into for planning as any. Unfortunately, it didn't seem much planning could really be done. "Rocket. Got anything?"

"I mean.. explosives?" Rocket's voice was both helpful and enthusiastic, though muted as much as Peter's was. "You got me. No way to tell what's in there. If I were to guess, though, I'd say it's someone in charge. Maybe a super-computer that controls all the robotics around here and monitors the factories?"

"Do you know what I haven't seen," mused Gamora in a low, vaguely worried voice. Rocket tilted his head inquiringly at her. "Transports. These factories are active, at least the ones immediately around here, but there are no transport vehicles. So what are they making, and where is it going?"

The alley was quiet for long moments as Drax, Rocket, and Peter all pondered their own personal worst case scenario answers for that question, but none of them spoke of whatever conclusions they may have come to. Finally, Rocket sighed and shook his head. "No point in psyching ourselves out. Let's just go in, get the cylinders, and get the frak off of this planet."

Rocket was mildly disturbed. This side of the planet had not been like this when he last visited it, but then, actual people had been in charge of the factories. Now that the robotics had taken over completely, things had changed a great deal. Even the empty streets seemed to emanate a desolate hostility. Initially, he'd considered perhaps showing Gamora the pretty, park-like half of the planet so she could see where he'd come from, but now he just wanted to leave. Some sixth sense nagged at him, making his hackles lift; there was going to be danger here. He just knew it. He looked up, but saw nothing beyond the veil of smog. "The sooner the better," he muttered under his breath, not catching Gamora's brief glance of concern. He was too busy staring at the cloud-ridden sky.

"Agreed," answered Peter. A quick scan had shown absolutely no security measures on the door. It seemed strange, but then again, who was going to rob a bunch of robots? He opened the door, and one by one the Guardians filed in with Drax bringing up the rear, all of them quiet. Stairs loomed immediately ahead, and with a harmony of heavy sighs, they started climbing.

* * *

"You are all terribly out of shape. You should be ashamed," Drax chided, looking disappointed in his compatriots. He was the only one of the four not panting from the effort of climbing all those stairs. It was a tall tower.

"Yeah? Well.. you're loud," replied Rocket between hissing pants. "And lumbering. And a bull in a china shop."

"Do not call me a bull, raccoon."

"Don't call me 'raccoon'!"

"Both of you shut up!" Gamora's voice was pitched low after catching her breath but tone still conveyed irritation. She knew that they would just wind each other up until any thoughts of stealth were blown out the very high window. Exasperated, she scanned the door that led from the stairs to the floor proper, and finding no alarms, pushed it open enough to peek around.

It had likely once been a reception area with a fine view. Now the view was blocked; every wall had computer equipment wired together, stacked as high as the ceiling, covering the windows entirely and making the space seemed cramped. It was a little eerie, how perfectly organized it was. Wires of the same color were wound together and not a tangle or a knot could be seen; even the lights seemed to blink in unison. "Come on," the green skinned warrior whispered, moving into the lobby in a crouch, one hand lingering near the hilt for her unextended sword.

Rocket followed close behind, not bothering to duck; with his stature it would be pointless. Drax didn't duck because he was Drax, hands near his paired daggers, looking around curiously. Starlord came last, easing the door quietly shut and glancing immediately to the one space not occupied by computer parts; at least the door wasn't blocked.

"What we're looking for had better be behind that door," Peter grumbled under his breath, one hand continuing to hover over his gun, ready to draw at any second. "Rocket, c'mon- ..Rocket?" He could have sworn the little raccoon was right there.

Rocket was half-way up one of the stacks of computers, peering intently at a monitor. "Guys.. we may have a problem. I think I found the parts of the Staff… but they're sorta in use at the moment."

Gamora's brow furrowed and Drax frowned. Peter was on the brink of asking a question when the door banged open hard enough to crack one of the hinges, leaving it tilted like a drunk needing the wall for support. Guns and blades were drawn in less than a breath, but when the Guardians turned to face the door, they saw only darkness inside. Darkness broken by two glowing yellow lights close to the ceiling. 

"I think we have to fight a giant robot."

"Rocket, for the love of.. why would we have to fight a giant robot?" Peter was exasperated, and the tension didn't help. He felt like his ears had gone to points, straining to pick up some kind of sound from within the darkened office.

Rocket shrugged and quick paws punched in a few commands at the console he had climbed up to. Suddenly, light flooded the office, revealing walls much like the lobby, blocked with stack after stack of computer hardware, enough to likely run the entirety of the city. And in the center was, indeed, a giant robot.

"Told ya so."

"Now is not the time, Rocket!" Gamora's words were still hushed, strained with the tension in the room as she watched, waiting for the giant robot in question to do something. It would almost be a relief if it did something other than stand there, staring down at them through the broken doorway. Surely it could move; it would have had to in order to shove the door open. So why was it just standing there like the world's largest wind-up toy now?

It did, in fact, look like a toy. Brightly colored in red and blue, it was nearly as tall as the room itself, looming over the Guardians. It made even Drax look small. Humanoid in shape, shiny metal alternated with sophisticated hydraulics in a fully articulated form; were it miniaturized, it would easily resemble a child's toy waiting below the Christmas tree for morning. Atop a broad torso was a clear dome, showing intricate circuitry and tubes, the 'brain' of the machine. It also showed three dark cylinders etched with faint silvery lines, surrounding a dimly gleaming crystal. The yellow eyes glowed from within the dome, seeming strangely malevolent, yet still the construct did not move.

"Uhm.. hey Rocket?" Peter whispered without taking his eyes from the giant robot.

"Mm?" Rocket was not inclined to look away either; his hackles were raised and he could already feel that fight-or-flight adrenaline surging. Except there would be no flight; fighting was far more fun.

"Does that thing have an off switch?"

"Sure. Inside that dome, when we rip the cylinders out. They're what's powering it."

"Oh, okay. So we just climb up the giant robot, pry up the dome, take out the cylinders, and off we go. Excellent." The slightly higher pitch was enough to convey nervous sarcasm.

"Yup. Good plan, fearless leader. Let's do it." And with that, Rocket entered the room and started circling one of the boot-like feet of the robot.

"Rocket he wasn't being serious!" Gamora's whisper was pitched to carry, more of an alarmed hiss than anything else, but Rocket ignored her.

"Who says?" Peter crept carefully into the room as well, proving that he apparently had been entirely serious, if extremely sarcastic. It was as good a plan as any, especially since they had no other plan.

Drax entered with no effort at creeping, just walking straight up in front of the seemingly-inert robot and staring upward as though debating how he was going to climb it. Gamora heaved a sigh, scowling at the lot of them, and followed in an irate stalk.

Rocket scampered easily up the wall of computers, managing not to dislodge any of the carefully wound cords, until he was close to the ceiling. From there, he peered intently at the back of the robot; unfortunately, no actual off switch presented itself, so the best plan was still sarcasm. Staring at the glass dome, he could just make out little dips around the edge where a tool --or small, clever fingers-- could be thrust to pop the dome off, presumably for any maintenance and repair that it would need. 

"I believe it is dead!" Drax's voice was far from soft, amused and inappropriately triumphant; he pounded on the abdomen of the machine to make a hollow metallic drumming sound. "It does nothing!"

As if on queue, a whir of servos and a creak of hydraulics made everybody freeze in place, staring wide-eyed at the giant toy. At first, it didn't seem to be doing much of anything. Then a panel lifted up on its forearm, and what appeared to be a large gun or a small canon emerged, accompanied by the high-pitched whine of lasers priming.

"Well fuck," Peter summarized the situation succinctly. 

Chaos predictably erupted. "Keep it distracted!" Rocket's shout carried over the firing of the laser which bore a hole into the floor right where Drax would have been standing if he hadn't leapt out of the way.

"Why are we always the distractions?!" Peter fired his own laser at the towering toy only to have it deflect off of the shiny metal carapace. 

"Because I'm already up here!" Rocket jumped, landing on the shoulder of the toy, and to his delight, it seemed his weight wasn't enough to alert the giant machine to his presence. Clinging with his toes hooked under the blue shoulder-plate, he started trying to get his fingers tucked into the gaps at the base of the dome.

Peter had no response for that, which just saved Gamora the trouble of telling them to shut up. Now was hardly the time for debate. She drew the hilt from the sheath, and the silvery blade slowly emerged from seemingly-nothing as she darted around behind the robot to start hacking at the hydraulics of the knee joint. 

Drax caught on to what the green skinned warrior was doing and lumbered between the robot's feet to start attacking the other knee joint with his paired daggers, trying to nick and cut the hydraulic lines in the hopes of draining enough fluid to bring the massive toy to a standstill.

"Oh, I'm the bait again?!" Peter growled, then ducked into a roll just in time to avoid being hit by one of the wide laser beams. "I hate this planet!"

Gamora and Drax plastered themselves close to the robot's legs, hoping that it wouldn't risk firing any lasers so close to itself, but it wasn't long before they paid for that. Gamora let out a yelp and hopped backwards, shaking her left arm rapidly to dislodge syrupy goo that was smoking through her jumpsuit like acid. The burn on her forearm stung enough to bring tears to her eyes, but she moved back in to keep cutting, now wary of which tube her sword was slicing through. Drax saw and managed to avoid getting splattered with the disgusting liquid himself, though plenty spilled to smoke along the carpet with an acrid aroma. The robot finally took notice of what was being done to it and raised one foot to bring it down in a heavy stomp that Gamora barely rolled out of the way from. "Rocket!"

"What?!"

"Hurry up!"

Rocket didn't respond, finally getting his fingers tucked underneath the dome like they were supposed to be. While the robot shot at Peter and continued attempting to stomp on Drax and Gamora --rocking the raccoon a good bit in the process-- Rocket heaved upward and the dome flipped off to tumble to the smoldering carpet below. 

Now came the hard part. What could he touch without getting himself fried crispy? "I'm workin' on it," he muttered quietly, eyes darting from one set of wires to another. "Ah, fuck it." With that motto, he reached in among the cables and cords and grabbed the gleaming many-faceted oval crystal in the middle, yanking it out with a wince, expecting to be zapped by something.

Instead, he was rewarded with the lowering whine of a machine powering down. "Everybody okay down there?" Rocket peered over the toy's shoulder to check out the rest of the Guardians and the laser-etched floor, coughing at the smoke that rose from the abused carpets. Absently, he slipped the crystal into his pocket; it was shiny and he'd surely find a use for it at some point.

"Can we go now?" Peter sounded absolutely done with the whole planet.

Rocket started plucking out the cylinders. "Yup. We're done. Assuming we can get back to the ship without… oh hey, I programmed a remote pilot. Yeah, just take the stairs out onto the roof and I'll bring the Milano here."

Rather than bitch at Rocket for making alterations to his ship, Peter helped Gamora to her feet and waited for Drax, then headed for the door. Shortly behind him was Rocket, with the three cylinders. In the smoke-laden room, a pair of electronic yellow eyes still glowed malevolently.

* * *

"Some day you will have to show me the better half of Halfworld, Rocket." Gamora's voice was soft and she hissed as the raccoon carefully rubbed a salve along the burns she'd suffered to her forearm.

"Some day. But not soon; you'll understand if I'm not eager to go back," he said with wry humor as he took out a roll of bandage to start wrapping around her arm. They sat at the small map table --rather, Gamora sat at it, Rocket sat -on- it to have better access to her injured arm. His tail swayed idly back and forth over the glowing display of the jump-points they'd be taking to their next destination. "We're going to go hassle that Collector guy 'til he tells us where the real cylinders are, yeah?"

Gamora nodded with a heavy sigh; she was already tired of this particular adventure. But she still managed a small smile for Rocket. Maybe not all of the adventure was so bad, really.. "And those should be the last of them. Then we can go power up the Sphere and see about getting it to Nova Corps."

"Still wonder what they're gonna do with the thing. I mean, for a Dyson Sphere it's tiny, but for a very powerful and dangerous weapon, it's ginormous." He snipped off the end of the bandage and tucked it with gentle care into the wrapping so it would stay secure. "Better?"

Gamora's small smile turned warmer and she nodded. "Much." Flexing her wrist to make sure the bandaging didn't interfere with her range of motion, she leaned back in the chair and crossed one ankle onto the opposing knee. Rocket moved to sit at the edge of the table. "I don't much care what they do with it as long as they keep it safe. I'm a little surprised we didn't see any more drones from our Saurian friends this jaunt."

Rocket tensed and looked around, ears perked and whiskers stiff, as if he expected alarm klaxons to start going off. "Don't jinx it."

Laughing softly, Gamora started idly playing with Rocket's ringed tail as it draped over the edge of the table. The gentle touch made whiskers and ears go slack and he sighed contentedly. "Think we have much time before we arrive, Rocket?"

The hatch opened and Peter stepped through, pausing to frown at the two of them being so touchy-feely. "We're here."

"Nope," said Rocket to Gamora, who laughed and threw up her hands in defeat.

* * *

The Collector's residence was a space station. Relatively small for a space station, and surrounded with floating hunks of junk as if he wanted to have one of every ship ever designed, but didn't care what kind of shape they were in. Boarding it in stealth turned out to be relatively easy; Drax had blown a hole in a set of launch bay doors when he'd made his escape previously, so they simply went in that way.

Walking the halls had to be taken slowly. Not just because there was stuff everywhere, but because of how fascinating some of the stuff was. Glass walls were windows into a menagerie of beasts ranging from exotic fish in a tank to colorful birds to strange creatures none of the Guardians could name. Turn a corner and you might find a collection of pinball machines from Earth's early 80s, or you might find a collection of Tarthan battle regalia, complete with old, dried blood stains. 

Gamora had the lead when they turned the right corner and wound up in the Collector's office. Or maybe it was supposed to be something else; so many books and papers cluttered the room that it was hard to tell. The humanoid, skin dark pink and once blonde hair faded to a frizzy white fringe, jumped and peered startled at the woman. "I wasn't expecting guests! Come in, come in, what wonders can I interest- You!"

Peter and Drax came around the corner to flank Gamora, conveniently cutting off the only visible exit for the Collector. "So, you traded fakes for some time studying Drax, here. Fakes." Peter shook his head, tsking. "Not cool, man. Drax is worth the real thing, arentcha buddy?"

Drax snorted and folded tree-trunk arms over his chest, staring down as if pondering how easy the Collector would be to snap. 

"Now wait a minute! Fakes? Impossible! Those were authentic data cylinders of ancient Saurian make you made off with. And my ship was authentic too!" He started to get up, filled with righteous anger, but the tip of Gamora's sword suddenly being level with his nose and less than an inch away prompted him to slowly sit back down. "They were the real thing," he muttered.

Rocket hopped up onto the desk and upended a bag, letting the fake cylinders spill out. The Collector frowned and pulled a pair of goggles from his forehead down over his eyes, peering intently at each piece. "…She -did- rob me!" 

Before the Collector could start flailing in his indignation, Peter cleared his throat. "Who robbed you? Are you saying someone swapped the real ones for fakes?"

The Collector nodded hard enough to make the goggles bounce slightly, producing a snicker from Rocket. "A girl! Just a few weeks before you lot came by; she was my only visitor in close to a month, and I know I had the real cylinders before she showed up!"

"Well great. That means we have to chase some girl halfway across the damn galaxy," Peter grumbled. "Can you at least describe her? Give us something to go on here."

"I can do better than that!" The Collector grabbed what appeared to be a remote control for an earth television and aimed it at the wall… at the earth television, in fact, turning it on. "Let me see… I know I have pictures here somewhere, of her and her ship…" Muttering to himself, the wizened humanoid rummaged through papers until he uncovered the touch-pad. A few beeps later and he pointed to the TV. "There she is, the thieving minx!"

On the TV screen was a slim, svelte creature covered in dark brown fur that was slicked down close to her body. Clad in a simple black jumpsuit, big brown eyes seemed alive with mischief and curiosity. "Or thieving otter, I should say."

Rocket dropped the fake cylinders with a clatter from fingers gone numb. Jaw slack, he stared up at the screen in dismay. "Lylla?"


	6. Staff of the Hierophant #6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The traditional peace and love of the holiday season doesn't quite take hold as the arrival of Rocket's ex, Lylla the Otter, tosses a monkey wrench in the budding relationship between Rocket and Gamora. With all the cylinders of the Staff gathered, it's time to head to the Sphere, but the hostile Saurians have different ideas.

"I am Groot," commented the plant with tentative confusion in his voice.

"Yeah, it's definitely her," Rocket replied, still seeming a bit stunned by the fact. He sat on the edge of his narrow bunk, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, not really looking at anything. The potted Groot sat on the small table that was in their bunk, watching Rocket with a degree of concern.

"I.. am Groot?" Groot tilted his head in curiosity.

"I.. I don't know how I feel, Groot." The raccoon's ringed tail twitched across the rumpled sheet behind him, moving the wrinkles to the sides. "I mean, of course I loved her; she was my girl! But that was years ago. I didn't ever think I'd see her again." Morose, he stared down at the metal deck plates. 

The plant bent down at whatever passed for a waist among plants, thinking to himself while idly rearranging the potting soil along his roots. He knew his friend was confused, suddenly put into a difficult spot; it was like expecting spring budding but the universe rewound itself to autumn instead. But the past was about to become the present. Above, Peter was piloting the Milano to intercept the path of Lylla's ship. It wouldn't be long. Hesitantly, he peered at Rocket, frowning a little in consternation. "I am Groot."

Rocket threw up his hands, tail lashing against the sheets. "Whaddya mean, what about Gamora?!"

Groot sighed, straightened, and gave Rocket a very patient look.

Rocket sighed, slumping again, and shook his head. "I don't know. It's new, okay? Just starting, and I don't know where it's supposed to go." He leaned forward, abruptly serious, even stern, and pointed at Groot to make sure he had his friend's attention. "And don't go tellin' nobody about it."

"I am Groot?" Groot didn't bother to mention the little fact that nobody else understood him.

"Why? Because it might cause problems, that's why." Another heavy sigh escaped the pilot's muzzle and he shrugged expansively. "Peter's got a thing for her, and Drax has to comment on everything anybody ever does, like he's got some sage wisdom to dispense, and… it'd just be complicated." He paused a moment, then added glumly, "Besides, I'm not exactly the kinda guy women brag about being with."

That made Groot scoff; he plucked up a pebble from the potting soil and chucked it hard enough that it bounced off of Rocket's forehead.

"Hey! What gives?! Don't throw stuff."

"I am Groot." It took a lot of effort for a potted sapling to seem demanding.

"Alright, fine. She's probably not really embarrassed by me, but still, keep it quiet, okay? I don't want to deal with the drama, and I bet she doesn't wanna either."

Groot nodded acceptance; Gamora was not one for drama. He was quiet for a long moment before speaking up. "I am Groot?"

"Yeah." Rocket sighed again, gaze returning to the deck plating. "Yeah, there's probably gonna be drama anyway."

* * *

"What do you think she's like?"

Gamora blinked, snapped out of her thoughts by Peter's voice, and she peered at the back of his head as he piloted the craft. "What who is- Oh. Lylla."

"Yeah. I mean, kinda wild, going to meet Rocket's ex-girlfriend, don't you think?" With Rocket's reaction back at the Collector's office, there'd been no way to avoid having their previous relationship become public knowledge. Peter thought it would be useful in getting the cylinders back. Gamora wasn't so certain.

"I don't see why," she replied casually, as though her thoughts hadn't been swarmed by that very topic since they'd started out tracking the otter's ship. 

"It's just so weird, thinking of him having a girlfriend." Peter's gaze was on the star-chart and the viewscreen; he didn't see Gamora's brief scowl. "I mean, what would it be like to go out with him? Where does he take dates, the gun range?" Laughter was in Peter's voice, laughter and a bit of startled surprise. "What kind of relationship could a guy like that even have?"

Gamora considered it a blessing that there was nothing near at hand to throw. If Peter could see her face, he'd have considered it a blessing too. His words were not helping her own tangled thoughts in the least, and anger was building. Not really at Peter; that was just irritation. More at herself, for letting herself become confused thanks to emotional involvement. There were reasons she kept her distance from most people, and this kind of confusion was one of them.

"Rocket's brilliant, Peter. Did you ever think that that might be appealing to some women?" She did her best to keep defensiveness out of her voice. "He's one of the finest tacticians I've ever seen, an incredible pilot, and a genius when it comes to anything mechanical."

"He's cocky, arrogant, and reckless," countered the cocky, arrogant, and reckless Starlord. "I mean, I guess being a raccoon wouldn't be a down side, since she's an otter, but still!"

Gamora sighed softly and scowled at the star-covered viewscreen. There was no point in arguing Rocket's virtues any further with Peter; he'd always find the idea of Rocket in a relationship to be bizarre. Gamora wondered if all humans were this judgmental, or if perhaps it had something to do with Peter's interest in her. She'd never tried to encourage it, but to be fair, she hadn't done much to discourage it either. And if she kept arguing, Peter might get too curious as to why.

It wasn't that she was embarrassed by her relationship with Rocket. She was just uncertain about it. It was brand new, tentative; a foundation was being built but there was no way to see where it would go from there. And now, Gamora had to wonder if it would go anywhere at all. A reunion with Lylla could re-ignite old flames, after all. She would accept that if it came to it, but the thought of that foundation remaining empty saddened her.

* * *

Most planet-bound people thought space was beautiful and filled with wonders, as though any moment might bring a glimpse of a mysterious exo-planet, or the shimmering vista of a complex nebula, or the burst of colored light surrounding a wormhole, or the tense excitement of navigating an asteroid field. In reality, space was mostly full of… well, space. Empty vastness between stars.

It made the trip boring. Normally, the crew could just jump to coordinates near their destination, but in this case their destination was another ship that was moving, so they had to catch up the old fashioned way. Fortunately, Rocket had himself a project to work on.

"What are you doing?"

Rocket tilted his head back to peer upside-down at a baffled Gamora. Even as he watched her from this unique angle, nimble paws worked on weaving fine electrical cord into a thin rope. Along the length were tiny sockets, and into some had been plugged gloriously mismatched colored lights most likely scavenged from wherever on the ship happened to have them that Rocket deemed unnecessary.

At some point, others might claim they were necessary, but Quill had made the odd request, so it was his fault.

"I dunno. Quill wanted a light rope. He was delightfully non-specific about where the lights should come from." Rocket's sly grin was contagious; Gamora chuckled softly at the expression before sitting down on the riser beside him.

"He didn't say what it was for?" Gamora picked up one end of the rope-in-progress, peering curiously at a small, square yellow light that had to have come from one of the cooking appliances in the tiny galley. 

Rocket's slow and amiable shrug suggested he didn't care what it was for. In truth, he was just glad for something to do. He was still feeling anxious about meeting Lylla again; they shared a lot of history together. They hadn't even really broken up; toward the end of the chaos of the Toy War, many of the animal companions --sometimes with their Loony charges-- had simply fled, and Rocket had just lost contact with her. It made things feel unfinished. "You know Quill. He just likes having toys."

Gamora held her end of the light rope with a bit more caution, eyeing it with wariness normally reserved for poisonous snakes. "It's not going to explode, is it?"

"No," Rocket said, expression sullen. "He made it very clear that this was supposed to be a non-explosive toy." Again, he shrugged. "Whatever the hell it's supposed to be."

Gamora relaxed marginally, secure in the knowledge that the lights weren't going to pop in a shower of sparks. She twirled her end back and forth between thumb and forefinger, letting the quiet stretch on for a moment. Things that had seemed perfectly fine now seemed so tense. All because of Lylla. Just the knowledge of the upcoming reunion had left a giant question mark hanging in the air over her relationship with Rocket. It was what Peter would call the elephant in the room. Finally, Gamora decided to poke at that elephant.

"Are you excited to see Lylla again?"

Rocket fumbled in his braiding, dark eyes going wide as he looked over at Gamora. That was not a question he was anticipating, though he had to inwardly scold himself; of course it would come up eventually. "I.. don't know. I guess I am; it's been years. But it still feels like an abrupt surprise, ya know?"

Gamora nodded slowly, though she really didn't understand it on a personal level. She'd only recently started letting people get close to her, and she'd never 'lost' one for an extended period before, so she didn't know how such a reunion was supposed to feel. It was small comfort that Rocket seemed as unprepared for it as she was.

"What was it like? With her, I mean.." Part of her really doesn't want to know. Looking into the past can be bad news; nostalgia isn't all it's cracked up to be. Learning about his ex might prick the bubble of warm feelings she'd been developing for Rocket, and that would sting.

Rocket had no hesitation about sharing, though. As he worked on his strange light-rope project, he spoke of Lylla. Her charming smile, her sweet nature, her cleverness. How good she was with the Loonies, always patient and kind. Real warmth was in his voice, though muted, perhaps dulled a little with time, and his gaze stayed lowered on the little lights he was plugging into the tiny sockets along his two-foot bit of rope. She was generous, she was playful, she was beautiful, she was exciting. He spoke of the dangers they found themselves in when Lord Dyvyne had kidnapped her, hoping to ransom or marry her for access to her family money, of the daring adventure to rescue her. 

From the way he spoke of that long-ago relationship, he'd been a different person. Not so hard-bitten and sour, not so abrasive. Perhaps, with Lylla, such qualities had never had a chance to bloom. There was even implication that Rocket had been a solid, upstanding citizen, which was a hard concept for Gamora to grasp.

"It sounds like she's a wonderful person," Gamora murmured, and she didn't quite manage to keep a hint of glumness from the edge of her voice; Lylla sounded like the woman of any man's dreams, provided that the man was fine with the otter-shaped packaging. And with Rocket, that would probably be a preference; a woman like him. An animal engineered and modified the same way he was. 

Rocket's ears drooped back. He picked up that touch of moroseness in Gamora's voice and was puzzled by it. Puzzled and concerned. He looked over at her with a small frown along his brown muzzle and started to speak when the shrill buzz of the intercom interrupted him.

"Everybody get to the bridge; we're here," came Peter's voice.

"Damn," he muttered, then looked back at Gamora, who was already standing. "Are you al-"

"Come on; we should get up there. Peter's going to want you to initiate contact." Gamora put some effort into a brief flash of smile, then turned and walked toward the hatch, feeling bitterness prickle around that warm bubble of new feelings. Rocket's perfect woman would soon be on board.

* * *

The ship was sleek, shaped like a horizontal teardrop with the bridge at the point. It was painted a matte black that would be damn near invisible against a star-scape; if Lylla shut down her engines and just drifted, most sensors would have difficulty picking her up. Peter considered himself lucky that she hadn't sped off when they cut their engines nearby; a ship like that could be as gone as a ghost in heartbeats. Exactly the kind of ship a high-end thief-for-hire would need. "Know what you're gonna say, Rocket?"

Rocket rolled his eyes and spoke in a dry and patient tone. "I thought I'd start with 'hello'." Groot, his pot perched upon the arm of the captain's chair, snickered

"Jeez, touchy, touchy," Peter said. 

Drax, boisterous as always, chimed in. "Do not be nervous! I am sure she will be eager for a wondrous reunion! And together we can go and get the Sphere; it will be a grand adventure."

"Has anyone considered that she may not want to return the cylinders?" Gamora's mutter was mostly to herself, though judging by the quick glance Peter shot her, it didn't go unheard. Unfortunately, it did go unanswered; maybe nobody really had considered that possibility.

"Guess it's time to find out," Rocket said. Gamora glanced over, feeling a faint blush tint her cheeks; he had damnably good hearing. But she said nothing, just dipped her head in a fraction of a nod. Rocket strode up to the pilot's console and tapped in the code to send a request to that small, sleek ship. It beeped confirmation of sending, and then quiet reigned for a time on the bridge. Just enough to stretch out the tension.

"What do ya want?" Lylla's voice gave even the gruff 'greeting' a soft croon. Even Peter blinked; a voice like that could seriously confuse a man. Drax just grinned, happy for this upcoming reunion, completely oblivious to the tensions in the air.

"Hello, Lylla." Only Rocket noticed the tentativeness in his own words; everyone else would hear his normal self-assured voice. Except Groot. Groot, fully aware of the tensions that all of the mammals seemed to be missing, heard those subtle nuances in his friend's voice. As he'd felt many times before, especially since joining this crew, Groot was glad he was a plant. Mammals always made things entirely too complicated.

"I.. Rocket? Is that you?!" Rocket grinned a little at the bewildered shock in Lylla's voice, but his amusement faded. He wasn't entirely certain what to say next. It wasn't as though he could just ask for the cylinders like asking a neighbor to borrow a cup of sugar. He glanced ruefully at the smug face of Quill, thinking that maybe he really should have taken some time to rehearse what he was going to say. Oh well. He could wing it.

"Yeah! We finally caught up to you. Long time no see!" The muscle in one cheek twitched as he realized that just about anything he said would sound suspicious as hell, especially since he was fairly certain he couldn't actually make himself lie to Lylla. Lying was usually so easy, but now it just felt wrong. "Erm.. we were looking to do some business. You wouldn't believe how shocked I was when a contact suggested you!" And that was the unvarnished truth.

"Business, huh…?" Some of the delight had faded from her voice, replaced by the shadows of suspicion that Rocket had feared would come up. "What kinda business?"

"Come on over and you can meet my friends; we can talk about it." He tried to sound reassuring, having the impression that suspicion would only grow otherwise, but 'reassuring' was never Rocket's strong suit. "Let's hook up." He blinked and abruptly started coughing as though choking on his words. He wished the coughing had started a moment earlier. "The ships. Hook up the ships. So you can come over." 

Gamora had put a hand to her face; if she wasn't concerned about their relationship potential, she'd be laughing hysterically. As it was, Peter was barely keeping his shit together, lips compressed in a tight line to keep the laughter from getting out. Drax just looked concerned about the coughing fit, stepping up to whack the raccoon on the back, which sent him stumbling two steps. Groot was the only one who decided to be helpful. "I am Groot!"

"What's.. a Groot?" Lylla sounded even more uncertain, probably due to the coughing fit and a strange thing called a Groot.

"He's a friend," Rocket said after making sure he could talk without tripping over his own tongue. "He wants to meet you." Which was not remotely what Groot had said; what Groot had said was that Rocket was an idiot, and at the moment, Rocket couldn't disagree. "He's also a plant."

"A plant." By her dry tone, it seemed that Lylla perhaps thought she was being made fun of.

"No, seriously! He's a talking plant. If you can call a plant that says three words over and over 'talking'. Come on, come by and visit, meet my friends, hear about business. We can catch up on old times." With humor in the air, even if it was directed at him, Rocket felt a little more at ease. Lylla always did love a good laugh, and it seemed that there would be giggles aplenty if she came over. 

"So, you have a friend who is a talking plant, and a business deal?"

"And good wine!" 

"Oh, well, I suppose I'm sold," Lylla commented in a tone of mock-resignation. "But the wine had better be good."

* * *

"Oh my gosh! Rocket, it really is you!"

Rocket had waited patiently in the small docking room. Alone, considering just how small the docking room was; Drax would feel a little claustrophobic standing in it by himself. And while Rocket's waiting had been patient on the outside, on the inside he was finding himself very nervous.

To his own surprise, part of that nervousness had come from the matter of the cylinders. Between that drearily abandoned Saurian planet and the multiple run-ins with weaponized probes, Rocket had had a bad feeling about the Sphere itself. Now, knowing that someone had paid Lylla to steal the cylinders, he was growing more concerned. Someone else was after that Sphere.

But that touch of anxiety was overshadowed by the more impending confusion of a reunion with Lylla. Especially since Gamora had been acting odd. He couldn't quite put his finger on it; she seemed almost resigned. Sullen, even. Rocket wasn't certain what was going through her head, and she seemed eager to dodge any questions about it, keeping whatever was bothering her to herself. Normally, that would be fine by Rocket, except this bother involved him. He just knew it. If only he knew why.

Lylla's delighted cry snapped him out of his staring into space and a grin wide enough to show sharp white teeth split his muzzle. She looked just like he remembered. Petite and sleek, so graceful in her movements, making even simple gestures seem like a dance. But there was no simple gesture; she threw herself through the air at him, forcing Rocket to quickly grab her under the arms and spin her around to slow her momentum. He did it out of instinct; this was just like old times. Their laughter echoed from the small docking chamber.

* * *

"Sounds like a good reunion," Peter commented with a faintly bemused smile. He stood over the chart table, punching in coordinates to check jump points along the route that would take them to the Sphere and finish off this job. 

Gamora's response was a noncommittal grunt as she looked at the charts, leaning forward with her hands on the edge of the table. Red-tipped brown ringlets of hair hid her profile from easy reading view, but Peter still sensed there was something off. Something strange had been going on and he wasn't sure what, but he thought it involved Rocket. It made him uncertain, and a little grouchy. With this quiet turn that Gamora had taken, however, Peter was becoming a bit concerned. He exchanged glances with Groot, whose pot sat on the chart table, and the plant shrugged.

Let's try this again, Peter thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "What do we have on board she might take in trade for the cylinders?" Maybe an open-ended question would prod Gamora into doing something more than monosyllable responses.

First there was nothing but a heavy sigh edged thickly with irritation. Then, "Maybe the boozes in the little white ship? A lot of them are very high-end, and a few aren't quite legal most places." A slight dip of her head worked for a shrug. "Or maybe the ship itself, if Rocket isn't too attached to it." She never took her eyes off the chart in the table.

"Pfft. With how long you guys took planet-side to get that thing up and running, I doubt he wants to part with it." Was it a trick of the light, or did Gamora's cheeks seem to darken slightly? Peter frowned, but of course the expression was unnoticed. 

"Mm. Well, he'll have to part with something; we don't have much available for payments. Maybe she likes bombs."

Gamora's voice held little humor, but Peter chuckled anyway. With Rocket's skill and addiction-like habits, they'd be wealthy anywhere bombs were considered a commodity. "Hopefully she'll like the wine then. Or hell, maybe she'll hand 'em over out of the goodness of her heart." Disbelief in his voice showed how likely a possibility he thought that was, but Gamora nodded almost imperceptibly. 

"She might. From what Rocket has said of her, she's a very good-hearted and peaceful person." It almost seemed like there was a hint of resignation in Gamora's voice, and Peter wondered even more just what was going on. If it had been three humans, he would have assumed there was some sort of love triangle disaster in progress, but it was hard enough for him to wrap his brain around Rocket having had a girlfriend at all, much less being involved with the elegant and often distant Gamora. Still… they had been acting a little odd before word of Lylla had reached them. Peter frowned a little harder.

His heavy sigh was nearly a twin to the one Gamora had uttered and he stepped back from the table, bending down to dig a battered cardboard box from under it. No point in thinking along those lines. It was irritating. It was absurd! But was it possible..? No, he'd occupy himself with something else. He opened the flaps of the box and started rummaging inside, pulling out a long garland of what appeared to be plastic foliage.

Now he had Gamora's attention. She blinked at the box, then blinked at what was pulled from it. "Peter.. what is that?"

"Decorations," he declared with a grin that was only a trifle forced.

"What are we celebrating?" Mildly curious, she pulled one of the flaps of the box lower to peer inside at the colorful jumble within.

"Back on Earth, there's a winter holiday that almost everybody celebrates. Different traditions and decorations depending where you're from, but in all of them it's about family and friends, keeping spirits up during the bad weather, sharing food and giving gifts." He set the ratty-looking garland aside and pulled out a glass globe filled with water and drifting white flakes. Grinning, he gave it a shake and set it down. Gamora looked at it like one might examine a strange artifact from a mysterious world. Which, in a way, was true.

"And this involves fake snow and fake plant life?" Gamora brushed her fingertips over the garland that was nearly the same shade of green as she was.

"Yes. Yes it does. Come on, you can help me put it up while Rocket and Lylla get reacquainted."

Dubious, but needing something to pass the time, Gamora shrugged and started gathering up the prickly garland.

* * *

"I am Groot!" Groot waved cheerily at Lylla and Rocket as they entered the small galley that Peter and Gamora had just abandoned. 

"Huh, you weren't kidding. He really is a tree," Lylla murmured, charmed. "Hello, Groot."

"I am Groot," Groot said with a certain solemnity. Lylla blinked and gave a sideways glance to Rocket.

"I wasn't kidding about him only saying three words, either. But after a while and a lot of guessing games, you learn to figure out what he's saying. He says it's nice to meet you." And that would probably be the last comment from Groot that Rocket would feel safe translating unedited, given how blunt and awkward his tree companion could be.

"Well, it's nice to meet you too, Groot." She raised a paw, wiggling stubby clawed fingers at him. Lylla looked around in great interest; this ship was nothing like hers. Hers was neat and tidy, orderly, nothing out of place. On the Milano, she was starting to think things didn't even have places. They just had spots where they ended up. "So. Before we walk down memory lane, why don't we talk business?" Companionably, she linked her arm through Rocket's and leaned against him, just like old times.

That was when Gamora walked in. She stopped in the doorway, watching Rocket and Lylla with a slightly startled look around her eyes, and briefly considered retreating. It felt like she was intruding, which made her irate, which made her embarrassed. They weren't even doing anything. Just friendly contact. With an effort, Gamora gave the pretty otter a small, tight smile. "You must be Lylla."

"I must be!" Lylla's reply was bright and full of good humor, though it faded a little when she saw the barest ghost of a flinch cross the stately green woman's features. 

"Lylla, this is Gamora," Rocket said. A simple introduction, though Rocket felt strangely as if there should have been more to it, but he couldn't quite put his paws on what that should be. "All that's left is Drax and Star Lord."

Lylla's muzzle scrunched in a little frown. "Star Lord? Lord of what star?"

Rocket nearly choked on laughter, and even Gamora was startled enough to let out a small snicker. "All of them, if you ask him," Gamora answered dryly, then moved to the chart table and dug another old cardboard box from underneath it. The otter looked puzzled by that answer, but gamely went along with it; the brief flare of humor had at least eased the touch of tension she felt in the air. Perhaps it had to do with the business Rocket had mentioned.

Box gathered, Gamora turned to go, perhaps a bit hurriedly. Lylla really did seem perfect for Rocket, and appeared just as bright and friendly as advertised. They even looked right, standing together like that. Seeing them together hurt in a way, though she called herself six kinds of a ninny for just making assumptions. All of this was new and strange, and it irked her in a way she wasn't used to. Maybe some time spent festooning the bridge with more of that awful garland would give her emotions time to wind down, or her mind time to catch up. "He and I will be on the bridge. I think Drax is napping."

"What? It's the middle of the day. For such a big excitable guy, he sure has lazy spells." Rocket tsked and shook his head.

"Apparently Peter had him up early looking for a-" Gamora frowned, trying to remember Drax's exact words. "A bright spiky ball?" Her brow furrowed and she paused in the doorway, eyeing Rocket. "Perhaps it has something to do with the light rope he has you making?" Rocket shrugged, as baffled as Gamora was.

Gamora pivoted on heel and headed out toward the bridge. The last thing she heard from the galley was Lylla's solemn pronouncement: "You guys are very weird." What an observant otter.

* * *

Lylla rested her head on Rocket's shoulder, big dark eyes focused with lively curiosity on the displayed star charts. The tip of Rocket's tail twitched back and forth at the nostalgia that came surging up. Arm in arm with his girl, just like old times.

Except that this wasn't old times. This was new times, and of late the times had felt extraordinarily new. Part of him thought that this close contact with Lylla felt perfectly right and natural, as though the years parting them had never happened. They could just pick up right where they left off. The other part of him balked at the idea like a stubborn mule; this was not like old times and he wasn't that old Rocket! Things were very different now. He wasn't a law-keeper on a peaceful planet; he was a law-breaker in a galaxy that barely understood the concept of peace. 

And it wasn't as though he was a single guy either. They'd never really discussed their relationship much at all, but he felt a growing bond with Gamora that went beyond the admittedly great sex. A strong friendship that was edging into romance. Sure, they had a lot of differences that could be bumps in the road, but with some work, they could be gotten around. Standing here like this with Lylla felt almost like cheating, an uneasy sensation he'd never felt before. Was that, maybe, why Gamora had been so edgy?

"So what's this business, hon?" Lylla's question drew him out of his introspection with a sigh of regret partly due to the fact that he was certain he'd subconsciously been onto something, partly due to his uncertainty about how to proceed with the business in question. He decided to just be blunt.

"You stole something from a Collector. A couple of data cylinders."

Lylla blinked and pulled away, tugging her arm from around his and turning to face him with dark eyes wide. "How do you know about that?"

"Because we were going after those cylinders. He pawned some fakes off onto us; when we went back to persuade him all civil-like that he ought to part with the real ones, we discovered you had taken them. That's why we came to find you."

Lylla tilted her head to the side, the barest hint of a frown on her brown muzzle. She stared at him in that manner, melancholy, for long enough to make Rocket's ears lay back. "So.. you weren't just trying to find me?" Her crooning voice sounded almost heartbroken.

Rocket brought up his paws and waved them in a negating fashion at her, shaking his head hard enough that his whiskers swayed. "No, no! Hell, Lylla, that was the first I'd had any clue you were even still around! Even without the cylinders, I'd have come looking!" And to his mild surprise, Rocket realized that was true. There'd always been an air of unfinished business regarding Lylla, though even now he wasn't entirely certain what that was.

Mollified, Lylla reluctantly nodded and gave a sigh. "Okay. So you want the cylinders. I've got a client who wants them too, yanno. I didn't just steal them for the fun of it." From her inflection, Lylla thought the idea of stealing for fun was almost appalling and completely incomprehensible, which made Rocket purse his lips for a brief moment.

"So who's the client? Maybe we can make you a better offer for 'em."

Lylla turned away slightly and looked down at the console. "Remember Lord Dyvyne? The clients are Saurians, like him…"

Little alarms started going off in Rocket's head. Saurians. Probably the same Saurians who'd sent such delightful drones to attack or slow them down on their own mission. "Lylla.. why would you take work from people like Dyvyne?" Rocket's voice was small, almost shocked. He remembered the hell that Dyvyne had put Lylla through in his quest for power, wealth, control. 

"A girl's gotta eat, yanno!" Huffing, Lylla folded her arms across her chest, spine stiff with indignation, and Rocket realized he'd put his foot in it yet again. "They were paying top credit for those gizmos and it seemed like easy payout! And I don't think your little gang can manage to scrape up those same funds," she added, nose a bit in the air.

"Hey, Lylla. Look, I'm sorry." Rocket wasn't exactly sure what for, but he knew those words would be necessary to put her hackles back down. "It was just a surprise, is all. It's probably the same Saurians that have been after us. Say.. do you know if they're the carnivorous ones, or the herbivores?"

"Wait.. what do you mean, 'after you'?" Lylla frowned, then caught up with the rest of the question. "What does it matter what kind they are? Herbivores, I think. Most of them had bills, not maws full of pointy. Why are they after you?"

"I am Groot," Groot added to the conversation, reminding them that he was still there and listening curiously.

Rocket nodded at the plant. "Groot's right; they probably want the cylinders that we have. And if they want 'em, it's for the same reason; they want their Dyson sphere up and running."

Lylla's face was the very picture of perplexity. "What's a Dyson sphere have to do with all this?"

"Come on. Let's go to my ship. I think you're going to want some of that good booze I promised to go with this story."

* * *

Gamora supposed that the bridge of the Milano looked "festive", as Peter called it. False greenery festooned the archway and was draped around the edges of the windows that looked out onto a plain star-scape. She still wasn't entirely certain what the purpose was, though; humans had such strange customs. 

Decorating hadn't been as much of a distraction as she wanted. She watched the console that showed the interior of the ship in simple schematics, watched the airlock open up again as Rocket and Lylla departed for the little white ship that the Milano was towing along. It felt like a squeeze to her heart, the unwanted imaginings of what they were going to do alone in that vessel, and she hated feeling that. It wasn't as though she'd made official claims over Rocket, after all. But it still felt like betrayal.

And that was beyond stupid. She knew it. It was completely irrational. For all she knew, Rocket was just going to show Lylla the crates of booze that had come with the stolen ship as an offer to buy the cylinders. In all probability, that's what was going on, but her traitorous imagination painted different pictures that she couldn't manage to unsee. 

So lost in thought was Gamora that when an alarm from the long-range sensors beeped she was startled enough to do a little hop and reach for her sword before letting all the held breath out in a gusty rush. "Dammit."

"What was that?" Peter looked down from the step stool he stood on, busily fastening yet another piece of fake greenery --this with dark glossy leaves and little white berries-- right above the archway that led to the bridge proper. 

"How am I supposed to know? It just went off," Gamora replied waspishly, then regretted her tone immediately. It was hardly Peter's fault that her emotions were such an untasty stew at the moment. Grumbling under her breath, she peered at the readout on the console to see if she could find a real answer to his question.

Irritation faded into confusion as she watched the information scroll across the screen. "Looks like a jump-point opened up nearby, but as far as I can tell, nothing came through it." That struck Gamora as exceedingly strange; those points didn't open for nothing. If a bit of passing space debris was all it took to get those portals to pop, they'd all be popping all the time and no one would be able to get anywhere with them. "Perhaps a very small vessel?"

"Or a cloaked one," Peter said. He stepped down off the stool and tucked it under one of the side consoles, walking over to stand with Gamora so he could peer down over her shoulder at the readout. The little alarm blipped again, then several more times in rapid succession. "…or many cloaked ones."

"Could be drones."

Peter sighed at Gamora's statement of something so obvious he really should have thought of it before thinking of cloaking technology. "More love letters from the Saurians?"

"Whatever they are, it'll be a while before they get to our position. Though just in case, we should be prepared to get out of her quickly." Gamora turned and started a little, not having been aware of how close Peter had gotten. Another thing to be cantankerous with herself over; she'd never let her alertness lapse like that before. Too many distractions on her mind.

"We'd better hope Rocket can sweet-talk Lylla into giving up her cylinders."

Gamora frowned slightly, more at the touch of grim contemplation in Peter's voice than at the mention of the ever-confusing Lylla. "What will we do if he cannot?"

"We'll have to take them anyway and kidnap our otter friend." Gamora's brown eyes widened a little at the lack of reluctance in Peter's voice, but she couldn't disagree. That Sphere had to be kept out of Saurian hands. No matter what.

* * *

"So it's full of weapons?" Lylla reclined gracefully on the ship's solitary bunk, sipping at some planet's version of whiskey. Her brow was furrowed, likely due to her contemplation of what the Saurians would do with such a thing. She'd formed a greatly negative impression of them from the one she'd had close contact with back on Halfworld, and the ones she'd been bargaining with had hardly seemed the trustworthy sort. Then again, Lylla wouldn't trust many people with an immense cache of weaponry and the schematics for many more, stuffed into a ball that was likely a weapon itself.

Rocket nodded. Perched atop one of the shipping crates, he'd declined to sample any of the booze himself, wanting to stay clear-headed. "And it's our mission to get it to Nova Corps. They're a bunch of goody-two-shoes, all about protecting the galaxy and maintaining peace. If anybody can be trusted with something like that, it's them. Even if they are incredibly boring," he added with a faint sneer.

"And this Staff is the key," Lylla mused, almost to herself. "So you need the data cylinders to complete the staff. I take it you've got the rest of them?"

Rocket nodded, wishing he had something to occupy his hands. All the tension on the ship had him itching to fiddle with something other than that light-rope, which was nearly completed. "Then we can turn the thing on, let it replenish itself at the nebula, and steer it to Nova Corp. After it's in their space, it's their problem." And by this point, he was more than ready to wash his paws of the whole affair. It was already far more trouble than it was worth, by his thinking.

"Don't suppose there's any sort of reward for this good deed?" Lylla didn't look terribly hopeful. It rubbed her fur the wrong way, knowing that the right thing to do would mean empty pockets that could lead to an empty belly if the situation wasn't remedied. 

Rocket's shoulders rolled in a shrug. "Eh? Dunno. Might be able to talk them into a little something." He tilted his head and peered more closely at Lylla, seeing the worry on her pretty face. "We've got a bunch of stuff we'd be willing to hand over for them; you could probably turn an okay profit off of most of it."

That perked the otter up, though only marginally. Finding buyers would take time, after all, but she supposed it was better than nothing. "Alright. Your crew can have the cylinders." When Rocket grinned, she held up a paw. "One condition. I get to come with you. I want to see this Sphere for myself."

A little frown curled Rocket's muzzle for a brief moment, but then he shrugged again. "Should be fine by everyone else. Can't say it'll be safe, though; those Saurians are after us. Could be coming to shove their guns up our tailpipes at any-"

Rocket was cut off by a crisp burst of static from the intercom, and Peter's clipped voice. "Ought to come back to the Milano, folks. Looks like we’ll be having company."

Rocket grinned at Lylla. "Called it."

* * *

Lylla scurried onto the bridge, pausing here and there in her explorations to straighten up onto her toes so she could peer with avid curiosity at the new views. The place was just as cluttered as every other part of the ship she'd seen so far, with the added confusion of what seemed to be plastic garlands of conifer. Strange customs these folk had.

And strange folk too; she peered intently at a large blue-skinned male covered in red tattoos. He was quite burly and intimidating, Lylla supposed, but she gave him a cheerful wave just the same. To her surprise, he waved back with a grin that was a flash of even white teeth. 

Rocket came in after, pausing in the middle of the bridge to stare at all the fake greenery that Gamora and Peter had strewn about the place. "Peter!" When the Star Lord glanced over, Rocket pulled the balled-up light-rope and tossed it to him. "Short and colorful and explosive-free, as ordered." Peter caught it easily with a child-like smile of delight. 

Gamora came to stand beside Rocket, frowning as Peter uncoiled the rope to examine it. "So.. did you come to an arrangement with Lylla?" She wished her voice didn't come out as timid as she believed it did, though likely the only one who would even pick up on it was the one she was addressing.

Rocket nodded. "Yeah, she said she'd fork 'em over for the booze and whatever other odds and ends she can have to sell, as long as she gets to come with us." Then he jumped as suddenly Drax lurched to his feet, pointing at them, then up at the garlands that decorated the arch over the bridge.

"Peter! Is that not the Plant of Enforced Kissing?!" Drax sounded incredibly excited. Most everyone else just seemed confused; Gamora and Rocket wore matching frowns as they looked up at the white-berried plant that dangled above their heads.

"The plant of what now?" Rocket narrowed his eyes but wasn't sure who to glare at. Lylla was stretched up on her toes again, seeming completely fascinated.

"Er.. Mistletoe, Drax." Peter chuckled under his breath. "It's tradition! Couples standing under the mistletoe have to kiss." He nodded sagely at Rocket and Gamora as though to blame the entire circumstance on Tradition. "Those are the rules."

The way Rocket and Gamora grumbled matched perfectly, and both folded their arms across their chests. "What fresh nonsense is this?" Rocket finally targeted his glare at Peter.

"Holiday tradition! Now kiss and get it over with before we get blown up by something." Just because it was tradition and he'd hung the plant up there personally didn't mean he was entirely happy with who had wound up trapped under it. Besides, there was business to conduct, and possibly escapes to plan.

Sighing heavily, Gamora hunkered down to sit on her heels, peering at Rocket. "If we don't get this over with, they will never leave us alone, and someone will start following us around with that damnable plant."

Rocket scowled at her. "Don't worry; my muzzle's clean and I've had my flea bath," he said irritably, subconsciously wondering why he was so grumpy about it. He hadn't thought a kiss was something to get over with.

Gamora sighed again --it was becoming a frequent occurrence-- and dropped her head, red-tipped brown hair falling to shroud her profile. She placed a hand at the back of his head, fingers curling between his ears in a small affectionate scritch as if to ask forgiveness for her own irritability, and leaned in to kiss the front of his muzzle lightly. She felt her cheeks heat up at the childish chorus of "Ooooo!" that seemed to echo around the bridge, and felt them nearly blazing when Rocket lightly licked her lips. She then sprung to her feet and turned back to her console, glaring at all within visual range as though daring them to make a comment.

"What a fun tradition," the delighted voice of Lylla came into the quiet. She scampered up to Rocket before he had a chance to move. "My turn!" With that, she wrapped her arms around the startled raccoon and planted a very thorough kiss on his muzzle, one which he returned out of nostalgic habit as well as surprise. When she broke the embrace, his eyes were wide and his ears were standing up stiff. She giggled at his expression. "You're a little out of practice, but this plant will fix that, I'm sure." And she ruffled the fur between his ears.

Gamora stood stiffly, eyes closed, though with her head bowed, it seemed like she was looking down at the console. Nobody noticed the tension that radiated off of her, or so she thought, until a small hand touched her arm. She started and blinked at Groot, whose pot was on the console, and he stared back with sympathy and offered her a small smile. "I am Groot?" It was a whisper, and of course Gamora had no idea what he said, but she took comfort from it and patted his head. 

"Groot! Tree of the hour!" Groot and Gamora both looked up as Peter came over with the light-rope Rocket had made. To everyone's bewilderment, he started wrapping Groot loosely with the cord, draping it across his arms like a stole, criss-crossing it over his narrow torso, letting the excess pool around his base atop the potting soil. At the other end, he plugged a round and many-faceted crystal sphere the size of a chicken egg, and balanced it on Groot's flat head. A flick of the battery-pack and the rope lit up in multi-colored glory, the crystal blazing like a star. "The perfect Christmas tree!"

"I.. am Groot?" He sounded puzzled enough for everybody.

"He wants to know what a Christmas tree is," Rocket translated a little gruffly. "I do too. And where did you get that crystal?" He knew full-well where they'd gotten it. He'd stolen it himself.

"Hey, Christmas is a season for sharing. You can have it back in a few days; right now it's the star." Peter's brow furrowed as he looked around at all the perplexed faces. "It's part of the holiday tradition! You decorate a tree and leave presents under it for family and friends. No room on the ship for a huge pine tree, but we've got a little tree right here anyway, and he embodies the holiday spirit of love and sharing." According to Peter, anyhow, who sounded absolutely certain of this.

"I am Groot!" The declaration sounded a bit happy amid the confusion and he raised his arms to examine the multicolored lights decorating him. A little grin split the bark of his face and he swayed back and forth in a little dance until he caught Drax looking. Then he froze in place.

Rocket shrugged; if Groot was happy with the situation, it was fine by him. He was still feeling the heat of the mistletoe kisses, and an uneasy sense that the whole affair had sparked trouble to come. But they'd come to the bridge for trouble anyway. "This can't be what you called us up here for."

"Nope. Just a happy coincidence," Peter said. "Little while ago, Gamora caught one of the jump points opening over and over, with no ships coming through. We're thinking drones. Probably from the Saurians. Hey, Lylla… maybe you should go get your cylinders and bring them over here with ours, just in case?"

Lylla could see nothing wrong with that logic, Besides, she was still delighted by all this human holiday frippery. Maybe there was some good to be said for their baffling traditions after all. "Sure. Be back in a jiff!" 

As Lylla scampered off, Gamora let out a sigh; she'd been counting slowly to ten in every language she knew in her head, trying to calm herself down. After those mistletoe kisses, she felt even more like she was in some sort of competition with Lylla, and it did not have her in the friendly spirit of giving that Peter insisted was appropriate to the season. "The other possibility is cloaked ships; with how much the Saurians focused on weaponry and similar technology, it would not be a surprise to find they'd invested some effort into stealth as well. But for the number of times that jump-point popped, drones are far more likely. We should get ready to get out of here and head to the Sphere, now that we have everything."

Rocket nodded. "I'll go secure my little ship; she'll be useless in a fight. Unless I can figure out a way to weaponize her again," he mused.

"No time for that, Rocket," Star Lord interjected. "Besides, having a spare craft might come in handy. We should keep Lylla's ship locked to us too; if necessary we may need to split up and that ship is far more stealthy than the Milano."

Rocket nodded in agreement and moved to take a seat at the pilot's console, glancing over at Gamora with a touch of concern as she sat at the other one beside him. "..you alright?" He kept his voice to the merest murmur; everyone else was busy enough getting ready for departure that nobody noticed.

No, I'm not alright. No, I'm upset by Lylla. Your ex. How perfect you are together. How she's interfering with what we could have. And I'm upset at myself for thinking that way. And I'm upset at you for not fixing it! Aloud, she said, "Yes. Just under some pressure." It wasn't as if she could just explain her turmoil of emotions sitting on the bridge with an audience around. Besides, all it would do would be get in the way of the mission.

Rocket's dubious expression said he didn't believe her at all, but for the moment, he let it go. Maybe she just didn't want to talk to him about whatever it was. Maybe she'd be ready later, and would tell him. No point in pushing the issue.

"I'm getting blips on the sensors," he announced just as Lylla came back onto the bridge. "Looks like… a good dozen or so small objects."

Peter sat in the Captain's chair with a child-like grin for the decorated Groot, then focused his attention on the problems at hand. "Alright. We've got all the cylinders. Let's get the hell out of here; back-track to the nearest jump-point behind us and plot a course for the Sphere."

Rocket and Gamora nodded; she started programming in jump points as Rocket began to take the Milano and her attached ships about so they could head away from the incoming drones. Just as he engaged the engines, alarms started spewing out of the speakers suddenly enough to make everyone jump. "They're speeding up! Fuck, they're fast; we don't have time!"

"Go, get us out of here," Peter called tensely, and Rocket grasped the T-shaped joystick to push it forward. They started moving, picking up speed, when all of a sudden ships filled their viewscreen. Not by skirting around in front of them, but by dropping their cloaks. "Ha! I called it. Cloaks." Hardly the time to be gloating, but Peter had to settle for small victories. Alarm had him on edge and he looked around quickly. "Lylla, grab the other bag of cylinders from the chart-table! Drax, get me a bucket!"

One command made sense while the other did not, but both people given orders jumped up to complete them. "We can't let them have the Staff! Rocket, think if we put on a light-show, Lylla could get her ship out of here?"

Rocket needed no time to calculate the odds on that plan. "Yeah, probably. That little ship's fast and stealthy. But then what?"

"We help her get the hell out of here; we're probably going to need her to help us get un-captured." Star Lord would have been perfectly okay with kidnapping the otter and stealing the cylinders; now he was just as okay with trusting them to her. 

"Are you certain we'll be captured?" Gamora didn't even look up from her console, still programming in flight paths and jump points, though most likely now they were to be sent to Lylla's ship.

An unfamiliar voice, low and gravely, came over the speakers. "We have you surrounded! Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded!"

"Yep, pretty sure," Peter said hurriedly, standing to snag the bucket Drax brought in and setting it down beside Groot's pot. He held out a hand making grabby motions with his fingers until he felt the rough-woven sack containing all the cylinders for the Staff pressed against his palm. "Sorry to do this to you, Groot." 

"I am Groo-OOT!" His normal comment ascended into an indignant squawk as Peter deftly grabbed him by the trunk and plucked him from his pot, roots tangled up with dirt and light-rope. He upended the sack, spilling all the cylinders into the bucket Drax had brought, then added the bag on top of them before dumping the dirt from Groot's pot into the bucket as well. Then he re-potted Groot with far more gentleness and care than anything else he'd done with the bucket. "Presents under the Christmas tree," he murmured to the plant, and Groot nodded his slow understanding of the plan. Nobody would think to check in the pot of a harmless holiday decoration.

While Groot arranged the dirt to his liking and dug his roots tight among the cylinders, closing them beneath the sack to keep most of the soil off of them, Rocket glanced over. "All weapons hot and ready to put on a show."

"Power down the engines," Peter said, and Rocket did so. "No way we could make a break for it now; they've got us surrounded and there's too many of them. Lylla, get back to your ship. We're going to need you to rescue us."

Lylla nodded, not questioning. Of course she'd help with the rescue. She hesitated, then scampered to the pilot's console and planted a quick kiss on Rocket's cheek. "I'll be able to track them; those cloaks leave signatures. I'll come find you." With that, she scurried off the bridge and to her own ship, prepping the ignition sequence that would surprise the hell out of any pursuers with it's speed.

"Alright, Rocket. Time to blow things up."

Rocket's grin was wide, displaying sharp teeth, and he snickered to himself as he started taking pot-shots at everything in range in the flashiest way possible. The light show lasted only minutes, just enough for Lylla to get away unnoticed. Then the Milano was neutralized and boarded, her crew taken away in chains, her corridors and rooms and hidey-holes thoroughly searched. No one checked beneath the harmless holiday decoration. The Milano, having failed to yield the items the Saurians had been searching for, was left drifting in space, lifeless save for the blinking colorful lights decorating the last crewmember aboard.


	7. Staff of the Hierophant #7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare as rescue is delayed. Groot and Lylla get to play hero.

Step, step, step, step, step.  
Pivot.  
Step, step, step, step, step.  
Pivot.  
The cell was five paces across. Gamora had discovered that hours ago, yet she kept trudging back and forth, like a sullen zoo animal half-heartedly wishing for a way out of its cage. She couldn't seem to stop; she had to move.   
Step, step, step, step, step.  
Pivot.  
It had been at least two days, though there was little way to actually keep track in here. The Saurians had been none too gentle as they stripped the Guardians of their gear, leaving just their clothing behind as if such things were of no interest, and Gamora was still nursing a split lip that remained slightly puffy and stung when she frowned. So it stung pretty much constantly.  
Step, step, step, step, step.  
Pivot.  
They'd barely been fed, and such feedings were sporadic, so they could hardly be used to judge time. They could be used to judge culinary skills, but only in the most negative of fashions. Meals consisted of wilted leafy greens and root vegetables well past their prime, but the Guardians had reluctantly eaten what was presented; the other option was to go hungry, and they were all thinking the same thing. They'd need every ounce of strength and energy once an opportunity for escape came.  
Step, step, step, step, step.  
Pivot.  
And that opportunity should have come already! Gamora had been sure they'd only be prisoners for a few hours, and then Lylla would come to the rescue in that ultra-high-tech teardrop stealth ship of hers. She'd said she could track the small ships the Saurians were flying, and even that wouldn't have taken much effort. Once they'd ransacked the Milano --thankfully assuming Groot was just some esoteric decoration-- they hadn't even bothered putting up their stealth tech again. It should have been easy for the Otter to follow them! And yet, days had passed. Days of all four of them being cramped in this cell, barely fed, unwashed, with the only privacy being a small privy screen that masked a bucket that had yet to be emptied. Lylla should have been here!  
Step, step, step, step, step.  
Pivot.  
"Oh for the love of Hastur will you stop pacing?!" Rocket's voice came out louder than he intended, though the level of aggravation in his tone was just right: High. "It's like water torture but in my ears!" He hopped to his feet, arms thrown up in dismayed frustration. "If you keep going, maybe you'll wear a hole in the floor deep enough to escape," he finished, voice cracking with sarcasm.  
Gamora froze in place at the first shout, then slowly turned. In the opposite corner, Drax looked warily at her. Star Lord, on the other hand, appeared, against all probability, to be asleep, tucked in by the bars at the front of the cell. She drew a calm, deep breath.  
"At least then we might have a chance of getting out of here!" The breath was not so calm coming out; while she didn't yell, her words had clipped anger around the edges, almost spat out in a snarl. "We should never have trusted that damned Otter!" Gamora didn't notice Drax wince, but she did immediately regret saying that; Rocket's features briefly dropped into utter dismay. Seeing that hurt Gamora's heart, and she thought a moment of apologizing, as if perhaps there was time to take it back.  
There wasn't time. "Don't you dare blame Lylla for this, Gamora!" Dismay only lasted a second before forming up into antagonistic anger. "She's probably out there right now trying to figure out which ship we're in and how to get to us! Which is a hell of a lot more useful than pacing around the damn cage!"  
"Oh, and what do you suggest I do, Rocket?" Her voice dripped with dangerous sweetness and her hands settled on her hips. "Strip down and make a rope out of my jumpsuit? The only good that would do us is stuffing it in your mouth to make you shut up!"  
"Yeah, strip down! Parade around naked; maybe some of them cold-bloods out there will get tempted and you can distract 'em! What a brilliant fucking plan!" 'Sarcasm' was not a strong enough word for what crackled in Rocket's rising voice. "Why wait for Lylla to come through when you can solve all our problems just by taking your clothes off!" He very likely didn't realize that the argument was starting to slip into territory unrelated to their capture, though no one else on this ship was clued in enough to catch on.  
"Why wait for Lylla?!" Gamora's lips curled, baring her teeth in a way that would have done Rocket proud. "Because we have no choice but to wait for Lylla! She's our escape option, in case you forgot! And don't you dare-"  
"Shut. Up." Peter was abruptly on his feet, hands curled into loose fists at his sides as he looked between Rocket and Gamora. While commanding attention, his voice was barely above his normal speaking tones. Just.. very sharp. "Or would you rather keep screaming about our escape plan at the top of your lungs? I think maybe some Saurians on the next ship didn't hear you."

Gamora appeared shocked as if she had forgotten there were two other people right here, much less however many Saurians on the little ship. Rocket's ears lay limp and flat back, an expression of chagrin that lasted until he and Gamora looked at each other again. Then they put on nearly identical stubborn and irate expressions and turned away from each other sharply. Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger as if to stave of a headache… which it was probably too late to do. "Look. We're stuck here. And provided we don't, I dunno, randomly murder each other," he gave narrow-eyed looks at first Rocket, then Gamora. Gamora had surprised Peter a bit; he expected angry outbursts from the Raccoon, but not from the patient assassin. "We will get out of here. It's probably taking Lylla a little time to figure out which ship we're being held on, since they all look the same." Rocket nodded firmly, but Peter shook his head. "And we should work on another plan to get out of here. Just in case Lylla's skipped out on us." Gamora sniffed, looking down her nose at Rocket.

"And the two of you need to get the hell over whatever bugs crawled up your respective butts and focus!" Now Peter yelled a little, frustrated beyond belief at the way those two were behaving. Both Gamora and Rocket looked at least a little chastised at the outburst. "Now. Rocket. You're the most experienced at breaking out of places. What do you think?"

Rocket frowned, the curl of his muzzle showing a hint of sharp teeth, and moved up to the bars to peer around while reviewing what he'd seen on the way in.

* * *

"You have feet!"

After programming the Milano's navigational computer so the ship would follow her, Lylla had chased --carefully!-- after the Saurians and found them gathered up in an asteroid belt. Her calculations had told her they weren't all that far from the nebula where the Sphere was supposedly parked, and she knew there was a jump point ahead, the one they would probably use to get to the Sphere. Once she and the other ships were secured behind one of the larger asteroids, Lylla had gone over to the Milano to check on Groot.

When she'd approached the potted plant with a bright and reassuring smile on her muzzle (only slightly forced), she'd been surprised to see him reach toward her with both arms much like a child asking to be picked up. Lylla realized that he was probably uncomfortable in this bucket with all those cylinders tucked around his roots, so she'd obliged, pulling him from the dirt only to see that the plant had small and stubby feet. She could have sworn that those hadn't been there when Star Lord stuck him in the bucket, but she was delighted to see them. It meant her plan had a better shot of working.

"I am Groot," the plant said sagely as he nodded, then wiggled the feet in question to shake some of the dirt out. He pointed emphatically at the table, and Lylla didn't need a translator to realize he wanted to be put down. She obliged him in this as well, watching him with a little concern as he tested out these new feet of his. He only wobbled a little before straightening and looking at her seriously. "I am Groot?"

Lylla frowned, having not the foggiest of clues what the plant was asking. Of course, there were a fairly limited number of possibilities, all relating to his Guardian friends and how to get them out. Rather than give herself (and probably him) a headache trying to figure out what specifically he was asking, she decided to just give him a rundown of what was going on.

"Okay," she said as she sat in one of the chairs by the starchart table. Groot came over toward her and sat at the edge, idly swinging his new feet back and forth. "There's only four of the ships now, and your friends have to be on one of them; the rest left while they were still on board here. They're parked in this asteroid belt, probably getting ready to interrogate their prisoners." She winced even as she said it, but Groot seemed to take the news with aplomb. Maybe he was used to the Guardians getting into serious scrapes like this, but she certainly wasn't.

"So." Little stubby fingers danced across the keypad, bringing up ship diagrams on the flat surface of the table. "Unless their ship design is completely nonsensical, this should be their basic layout." The diagrams were very simple. They showed a bridge at the nose of the ship with a small weapons bay underneath it. In the back was an engine room, and beneath that was an empty space, which Lylla tapped a claw on. "That would normally be the cargo hold, and it's probably where they're inclined to keep any prisoners. Ship like that, there's really no other place they could be. And I'd be shocked if there were more than two Saurians per ship; those craft are high-tech, but really small. They probably have bunks along the walls of the bridge; ships like that aren't meant for long-term travel. I thought that meant there'd be a mother-ship to pick them up waiting here, but I haven't detected one. They may be waiting for one to jump in through the gate, which means we've got limited time. No way can we take on whatever huge ship these little ones popped out of."

Groot leaned to the side to peer at the little diagrams with all evidence that he understood everything being said, though Lylla wasn't entirely certain of that. He nodded, appearing thoughtful, then looked back up at the Otter and gave a theatric shrug. "I am Groot?"

"Now what?" Pretty easy to determine that's what Groot more or less was asking, and the plant nodded again eagerly. "Okay, I've programmed the sensors to figure out where your friends are." Groot tilted his head to the side inquisitively, wondering how the charming Otter had managed to do that with the less-than-stellar sensors available on the Milano. Or maybe she did it from her ship. "Not that hard, really, Groot. The Saurians are cold-blooded, like really big reptiles. So the sensors are scanning for heat signatures rather than people. Right now they're filtering out the heat signatures from the engines and weapons, and when that's done we'll know what ship they're on."

Groot seemed to give this a good deal of thought, still swinging his feet over the edge of the table. Lylla was a smart cookie; he understood why Rocket liked her so much. That was about all Groot understood about what was going on between Rocket, Lylla, and Gamora. That and that trouble would sprout from it sure as flowers sprouted in spring. "I.. am Groot?" Knowing that Lylla couldn't really understand him, he mimed gripping the Y-shaped control stick of the ship's weapons, then rocked back and forth as if he were shooting.

"Erm.. well, sorta?" Lylla couldn't help but grin at Groot's antics, shaking her head with a soft chuckle. "But see, I've got to get to the ship they're on and break in. Which won't be that tricky; my little ship's designed for that. I can drill their airlock in less than a minute and be inside. Here's the trouble." Her claws tapped on the other three ships shown on the table's lit-up panel. "While I'm doing that, I'll be vulnerable, and those ships can have my ship turn to space debris before I'd even have a chance to board. And, obviously, I'd be debris too. So I'm gonna need a distraction."

Groot thought this over, then slowly grinned and repeated his mimicking of what he'd seen Rocket do --usually while yelling joyfully-- with the weapons console. Lylla nodded. "Yep. That's where you come in."

* * *

 

"I dunno, man, there's not a lot to work with." Rocket lightly gripped two bars of the cell with his paws, his muzzle sticking out between them as he peered into the dark and narrow space. One door, probably to the weapon's bay, was extremely hopeful. One solidly locked cage, however, made that hope useless for the moment. "From in here, there's absolutely nothing we can do."

"That's just exceedingly helpful." At least Gamora muttered it sullenly under her breath instead of re-igniting the shouting match. Peter hissed at her like a cat just dropped in a bathtub and she shut her mouth on whatever else she was going to say.

Drax frowned. He was beginning to think, as improbable as it was, that there was something going on between Rocket and Gamora. For arguments to flare like fireworks the way theirs had indicated other passions mixed with trouble. How fondly he remembered arguments with his wife, cool, calm voices still holding a bite, and the promise of making up after. Appealing as that trip down memory lane was, however, there were more pressing matters. Rocket and Gamora were one, but there was nothing he could do about that. Maybe he could do something about their caged situation. "So all we need to do is get out of the cage."

Three pairs of eyes slowly moved to stare at him. Silence reigned for long moments before Peter finally spoke up patiently. "Yes. That's all we need to do. Any thoughts as to how?"

Star Lord had mostly expected to hear the chirp of imaginary crickets in answer, but Drax stood and looked around as if assessing their options. "The door gets opened, remember? When they come to feed us. One comes in with the tray, and the other one stands there menacing us with that cattle-prod." Rocket winced, rubbing at a patch of singed fur on his chest, remembering how effective those were.

"Yes, that's fantastic, but there's the matter of said cattle-prod that holds us back from just jumping the guy, remember," he growled, feeling the blister that had formed under the singed fur. That was at a low setting, and had still managed to toss him backward across the room.

Drax shrugged massive shoulders. "So we need to surprise them, yes? Maybe do something to lure both of them inside, so they're close together. If we can catch them off-guard, I am certain that Gamora can disarm the one of his prod. Yes?"

Gamora blinked at Drax, then nodded slowly from her position crouched against the wall. "Yes, I suppose I could disarm him as long as there's a distraction."

"Unfortunately they're not idiots; the old "sick prisoner" routine ain't gonna work on 'em," added Rocket reluctantly. If only it could be that simple. "So how are we gonna distract 'em?"

Again, silence filled the little cubicle. It stretched out as Peter frowned, leaning against the wall by the bars. Then he tilted his head thoughtfully, and slowly looked toward the privy screen. Rocket blinked and glanced between Star Lord and the screen, wondering if he planned on prying that rectangle of metal off of the wall. Then his ears lifted in sudden realization and he turned around to look at Peter. "That's.. that's disgusting! I love it."

Since everyone else looked confused, Star Lord motioned for them to huddle up so he could explain the plan.

* * *

 

"They're on this one," Lylla murmured with a touch of excitement in her sweet voice, tapping the outline of the ship that, by where they were positioned now, lay on their far right. The outline was flashing and a little blob of orange, indicating heat signatures, shone in the bottom rear, just where she thought they'd be. 

Groot bounced to his feet and nearly lost his balance, but managed to stay upright. He was practically quivering with an eagerness to get on with this and go rescue his friends, but slumped when Lylla held up a paw. She was much more meticulous about planning things through than Rocket was; Rocket would have just barreled around the asteroid and started firing.

"Alright, here's the plan. I'm going to get in my ship, and you're going to fly around this asteroid and start firing."

Groot stared at her with huge eyes, wondering if the reading of minds was an Otter Power Rocket hadn't warned him about. Then he grimaced and shook his head, pointing down at his own feet, then at his arms. He was far too small to fly the Milano!

"I know, I know, but I'm going to program a flight course into the navigational computer for you. You won't need to do any actual flying; I'll trigger the sequence from my ship and you'll just go. All you need to do, little plant buddy, is fire on every ship but this one." She tapped the orange-lit ship outline again. "Understand?"

Groot frowned and turned to stand right beneath the display of the ship outlines. They were spread out in a string, all identical, except for the orange glow on the one on the far right. If only Groot could see colors, that might actually be helpful. Looking a little puzzled, he glanced back uncertainly at Lylla, who gave an encouraging nod. He pointed at the farthest-right ship, then brought his hands together and suddenly moved them apart, miming an explosion, complete with sound-effect. When Lylla nodded again, he went to the next in line, and then the next, repeating the gesture and sound to the encouragement of Lylla. And then he did the same thing at the orange ship. "No no no! Not that one. No boom."

Groot frowned and toddled back to the leftmost ship, and repeated the slow process of mock-exploding them. All four of them. "Nope! Maybe this isn't gonna work… no boom for this one," she said sternly, tapping the orange-outlined ship. Huffing, Groot started all over again at the left. Just as he was about to move from the three mock-boomed ships to the fourth, Lylla perked up like she'd just had a brilliant idea and covered the orange ship with her paw. Groot paused, then stopped and looked curiously at Lylla. "That's right! Three ships." She tapped the ships in question one at a time from left to right. "One boom, two boom, three boom." Groot nodded sagely.

Lylla desperately hoped that Groot understood "Three ships starting from the left" and not "All ships that aren't covered by a paw", otherwise this was a rescue that was doomed to failure. But she didn't have any other ideas, at least none that could be done quickly, and it was only a matter of time before a mother ship came to pick up these four short-range vessels. "I'll make the Milano start moving from my ship, and you'll be sitting at the weapons console, and you'll start firing as soon as you can see their ships through the window, kay?" Groot nodded, though he still seemed uncertain, looking down at himself. "…we'll get you a booster-seat."

* * *

The duck-billed Saurian stood in front of the bars, the crest on top of his (her?) head having taken on a reddish hue against the mottled brown of its hide. In its hands, it held the two-foot bar with the prongs on the end, prongs Rocket was uncomfortably familiar with. Unlocking the gate was another Saurian with a short beak-like muzzle and a dome atop its head ringed with little spikes. Both had thick, short tails to keep their balance; they didn't walk quite upright, rather leaning forward slightly with the weight of their tails keeping them from overbalancing. Drax suspected those tails could be fine natural weapons if needed.

The blue-skinned, heavily-tattooed man stood behind the metal privy screen that only came up to just under his ribs; to the Saurians he would appear to be taking a leak. He frowned, looking back and forth between the two dinosaur-people, debating which one would be the target. Dome-head could be a problem; with that thick neck it could use its own head as a battering ram, but Duck-face had that cattle-prod (or would that be people-prod?) and wasn't hesitant about using it. It probably wouldn't be hesitant about cranking it to a higher setting, either. 

Then the door clanged shut behind Dome-head as it came in with the tray of unappetizing wilted greens, and Drax didn't have more time to consider it. That was the signal. He bent down, grasped the bucket, and straightened up swiftly to give added momentum to his throw.

The Saurians were wondering why the three mammals gathered in the center of the cell suddenly stepped to the side and ducked, but before the curiosity could barely start to form, a stinking, sludgy mess was flying through the air to liberally spatter Dome-head and splash directly into the face of Duck-face. Gamora wasted no time, lunging forward and grabbing the end of the cattle-prod, pivoting to use her body weight to yank it out of Duck-face's offal-smeared hands. Expertly, she spun it and thrust the business end between the bars, activating the higher setting just as it impacted the soaked and disgusted Saurian. It flew backward, smelling vaguely of cooked reptile, steam rising from the thick liquid that covered its head and shoulders.

Dome-head let out a startled growl at the sudden assault, looking down at its barrel-shaped body with revulsion as the smell told it just what had come sailing through the air. Then he suddenly had a face full of snarling, furry mammal; Rocket had leaped up and attached himself to the Saurian's face. His fierce bites weren't doing much against the smooth, hard dome, but quick claws digging for eyes kept Dome-head busy. Its tail lashed, catching Peter behind the knees and sending him sprawling and cursing, sliding a little in the mess Drax had made.

The Saurian snorted, half-blinded by the Raccoon on his face, and suddenly leaned forward with an enraged bellow that seemed extremely loud in the small cage. The charge was only a few feet; not enough time for Rocket to get fully clear as the Saurian aimed his head at the wall. He heard the crunch as much as felt it as his lower right leg got caught and let out a shriek of furious pain before going limp, a little woozy, only held up because of his pinned calf.

At that awful sound, Gamora whirled with her full lips drawn back in a snarl. She thrust out hard with the shock-staff as if she was intending to stab the offending Saurian to death for hurting Rocket. Of course, it wasn't meant for stabbing, barely even nicking the faintly hardened hide of the Saurian. Also of course, it was meant for something entirely different and she hit the button, sending jolt after jolt of electricity into Dome-head, who shuddered and collapsed, Rocket falling with him.

Gamora ran to Rocket as Drax ran to Peter, checking on their wounded. Peter was going to be weak in the knees for a day or two and boast some spectacular bruises, but Rocket was moaning softly, the middle of his calf bent very slightly and already starting to swell. "Pick him up; we need to get to the bridge," Peter said to Gamora, voice a little hoarse, likely from having the air knocked out of his lungs when he was so rudely swept off his feet. "We're as good as free-" Peter cut off as the ship rocked slightly, and he heard the high-pitched whine of laser-fire and the heavy thuds of small missiles. "Fuck, what now…" Either of the Saurians might have had time to push a signal button before they got taken down, alerting the other ships to trouble.

The Guardians, Rocket tenderly carried by a worried Gamora, darted out of the filth-covered cell and up toward the bridge to see if this was disaster or rescue.

* * *

Groot had never flown a ship before. Technically, he wasn't flying now; the remote sequence had been triggered by Lylla in her little teardrop ship as she was prepping to go into the line of enemy ships for the attempted rescue. But it still felt like he was flying. Here he was, out in the depths of space, alone on the Milano. Seated at the firing console on a rigged booster-seat made out of the holiday decoration boxes so he was positioned just right to grab the Y-shaped firing control stick. Friends in danger, awaiting rescue. An important mission to complete. And this stage all relied on him. It was enough burden of responsibility that he felt buried under rubble, but trees had been known to grow up through concrete. He could do this.

"I… AM… GROOOOOOOOOOT!" Lasers and missiles exploded ahead of him like fireworks against the blackness of space.

* * *

The little plant appeared to be doing fine. Lylla could just imagine the shock on Saurian faces when the ship they'd just left abandoned a few days ago came soaring around the asteroid and opened fire. Groot was doing it just like they practiced, targeting the leftmost ship first and firing until it hung half-dead in space, weapons offline, and then moved right to the next one in the line; Lylla just hoped he wouldn't keep going and fire on all the ships.

She eased her sleek vessel alongside the ship furthest to the right and set the docking clamps on the enemy ship's airlock. It certainly wasn't going to open with a friendly greeting for her, but to the thief, that didn't much matter. Like a master lock-picker at a safe, she hunkered down and took an elaborate set of drills to the airlock door. It would set off alarms, but if the people in the ship weren't already alarmed, she'd be very surprised.

Minutes of careful drilling passed and the airlock hissed open. Her own ship connected to the airlock frame and she felt the quick rush as pressures equalized. Darting through the short hall, she hit the panel to open up the inside door and went through, immediately struck by a stench in the air. She glanced to the side and saw the cargo hold that had been modified into a small prison cell that looked like it had seen far better days, but didn't think anything of the mess. What she thought of was the two Saurians that looked barely conscious piled in a corner; it looked like the Guardians had gotten the better of their captors. While Lylla was a little disappointed at not getting to do a Grand Rescue, she was quite pleased by how resourceful Rocket's friends were.

Silent as a shadow, she climbed up the rungs set into the wall and popped up into a matching short hall, looking into the bridge. Looking at three tall Guardians all aiming guns at her. "Woah. Hey, guys. Can't put my hands up or I go back down the hole."

Lylla didn't hear Gamora's muttered 'good', though Peter shot her a stern glare, and Drax set the gun back on one of the two pilot chairs in the tiny bridge. Gamora and Peter holstered theirs at their hips and the Otter climbed the rest of the way out, looking around for Rocket. When she spotted him she gasped; he was slumped in the other pilot's chair with one leg up along the arm. A leg that was swollen and bent in a way no limb should be. "Rocket!" Lylla rushed forward, brushing past Gamora in her anxiety to check on the Raccoon.

"Where the hell were you?! If you hadn't taken so long he might not have been hurt!" Gamora wasn't yelling, but her angry voice clipped the words short, dangerous. She spun on Lylla, dark eyes flashing, all the frustration and hurt and anger of recent days threatening to boil over.

"Stow it, Gamora," Peter snapped. "She's here now, we're all alive, and we're getting out of here. Unless we get blown up first." The stupid ship didn't have a viewscreen or window to see what was happening outside; nearly everything on it appeared automated, drone-like. 

Lylla's eyes were still wide as she looked between Gamora and the injured Rocket, who looked back at her with a feeble attempt at a smile. The smile didn't do much to soothe her about the angry green woman who seemed to have a massive chip on her shoulder, but it did convince her that he would be alright. "Oh, don't worry about the firing," she said, hiding her own worry about the firing very well. "That's Groot. He's in the Milano."

"He's what?!" It was a duet between Gamora and Peter as both looked at Lylla with astonishment. Drax let out a booming laugh. Even Rocket managed a little hissing snicker between sharp teeth.

"I programmed a flight path for him. He's the one firing out there, taking out the other three ships. And… um, just in case he forgets the number three, we should get the hell out of here. You'll all fit in my ship if you squish together and be all friendly-like." She cast a wary glance at Gamora at that, but the green-skinned woman was watching Rocket with concern. "We can strap him into the passenger seat so he doesn't get jostled, okay?" Gamora begrudgingly nodded, and Lylla and the Guardians piled into a ship too small for all of them.

* * *

Groot had finished off the third ship and was getting ready to fire on the fourth when he squinted at the viewscreen. That was Lylla's little teardrop ship there, still tethered to the ship he needed to destroy. Or did he need to destroy it? Frowning, he wracked his brain, trying to remember.. then he pictured an otter paw covering that ship the way the Otter's ship was partly covering it, and took his hands off the firing controls. He was done. Now all he needed to worry about was where the Milano was going. He let out a sigh of relief and went about getting himself out of the booster-box contraption.

* * *

The Milano, in fact, wasn't going far at all. Lylla had programmed the nav-computer to put the ship back behind the asteroid after a few passes, and that's where it was waiting when she flew around to check. Getting back on board was no trouble at all, and though still worried about Rocket, Lylla had to giggle at the sight of Groot, back in his original pot, and covered once again with the Christmas decorations that he seemed to enjoy. He waved and she wiggled a paw back at him.

Then Gamora boarded, carrying Rocket on her back, and Groot gasped. "I am Groot!"

"I'm alright, little buddy. Just a bum leg."

"I am Groot?" The plant managed to look worried, as much as a plant can.

"Really." Gamora crouched to set Rocket down on one of the stools by the star chart table upon which Groot's pot sat, then perched on the one beside him.

"I am.. Groot."

Rocket's muzzle split into a grin. "Yeah, heard you got to play fighter-pilot today. Fun, huh?" Groot nodded enthusiastically enough to knock the bright rounded crystal off of his head, though he quickly caught it and set it back where it belonged.

"We don't have an infirmary, so your bunk will have to do, Rocket. With Groot in a pot it's probably got the most space anyway," said Peter. "Drax and the mini-medbot can get you fixed up; it'll be days before we get to the Sphere." He added in a dark mutter, "Assuming no other surprises await."

"Don't jinx it," chirped Lylla with a soft laugh. "I've got some medical training," she continued, looking at Rocket who seemed a bit nervous about being worked on by Drax. "I can help out if you want."

"Oh, now you're helpful," murmured Gamora as she walked by, bitter sarcasm palpable in the air.

Lylla flinched, looking hurt and confused, and Rocket frowned, reaching out to take her paw in his. "Yes, I want. Besides, you'll probably be a better choice anyway, since our sizes match."

Now it was Gamora's turn to flinch as if she'd been struck; instead of retorting, she stalked into the bridge. Peter shook his head, tucking his hands into the pockets of his recovered pants. Drax shrugged at him and he returned it, neither man knowing what to do about the square miles of tension packed into one small ship.

"Rocket.. what's her problem," Lylla whispered, leaning in close to the Raccoon's ear so Gamora wouldn't overhear. She had no idea what she'd done to piss the woman off, but it was really starting to get to her. All Rocket's other friends seemed just fine, friendly even, but Gamora was nothing but glaring and snapping.

"Don't worry about it, hon," Rocket replied, not bothering to keep his voice low. He was sick of the way Gamora was acting and couldn't resist the urge to sting her a bit the way she'd been stinging poor Lylla. "She's just got a mean streak, is all." He planted a kiss on her cheek, as much to comfort her as to sting the watching Gamora, then immediately regretted it. Not because Gamora didn't deserve some aches for how she'd been treating Lylla, but because it wasn't fair to Lylla herself. He sighed heavily and lowered his voice to a whisper against her little rounded ear. "I'll explain when you're doing your medic thing, okay?" Lylla nodded uncertainly.

Peter was giving Rocket a glower; now he was almost certain something had happened with him and Gamora and it made him bitterly jealous. But he had to pack that down and put it away; this sniping and bitchiness would be a hindrance to the mission, and that had to be put ahead of his lack of love-life. "Whatever the hell is going on," he intoned in a low voice, "I want it fixed before we get to that Sphere. There might be more battles ahead, and I don't want those battles to be between crew members."

Chastised, Rocket nodded. He had figured out that Gamora was jealous, at least, but that didn't explain how hurt and distant she'd been before their capture. Maybe now she was just extra-testy after frustrating captivity, which made perfect sense, but it didn't lessen the tension at all now that they were free. He just couldn't figure out what was going on in her head, and she'd been remarkably dexterous in dodging any opportunity he had to find out. But at least he had the clue that she thought he was getting back together with Lylla, and wasn't happy about it. Now the problem was, what to do about it?


	8. Staff of the Hierophant #8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions build between Rocket, Gamora, and Lylla. Peter intervenes with a plan to break up Rocket and Gamora. The crew gets closer to the Sphere, learning that a small fleet is well ahead of them and will get there first.

Rocket sprawled on the bed in an ungainly pile of fur, propped up on a pillow so he could watch Lylla work. Whatever she'd given him to kill the pain made him feel almost like he was floating; thoughts came and went without letting him catch them before they were gone. Lylla glanced up from feeling along the breaks of his leg and giggled. "Wha's so funny?"

The Otter shook her head. "You. Your pupils are huge and you have this dopey grin."

"Do not!" Rocket grumbled indignantly around his dopey grin. "'Sides, your fault. You drugged me. Drugger."

Lylla chortled and resumed feeling around the breaks. "Alright… I'd say this will hurt, but something tells me you'll barely feel it." And she was right; all he felt was a sudden yank and the oddest sensation of bone rubbing against bone like sandpaper inside his leg, then an almost pop-like feeling as the breaks settled properly into place. "Now don't move. I still have to splint and wrap it, kay?"

"Kay," Rocket confirmed through his haze, dopey grin gone in a faint frown that crinkled his muzzle. He knew there was an important thought floating around somewhere, something he'd promised Lylla. After several mental fumbles, he finally caught it. "So, about Gamora."

Lylla squinted at him as she laid out the plastic strips that would serve as splints. "What about her?" Her normally musical voice came out somewhat flat; thus far she didn't think much of the stately green woman or her nasty attitude.

"We're lovers," Rocket stated bluntly, the drugs not letting him beat around the bush.

"You're what now?!" Lylla dropped one of the splints and let out an unladylike curse before arranging them properly along his broken shin again, still staring at Rocket with wide, startled eyes.

"Lovers. It's new." Rocket paused, whiskers twitching as he grasped for words. "Or maybe old. Maybe over. I dunno." He sighed heavily, sadness making his pert ears wilt out to the sides like petals of a dying flower.

Lylla paused, holding the splints in place and watching Rocket seriously. She wasn't sure what to make of this news; despite her good imagination she couldn't even picture that happening. She'd almost think Rocket was playing some elaborate joke on her, except those drugs wouldn't allow such a thing, provoking brutal honesty instead. "Alright," she murmured hesitantly. "Why over?"

"Dunno. She won't talk about it. Just started acting different. When she found out about you coming aboard." That's one of the parts that made no sense to Rocket; it was like Gamora got preemptively jealous. Why would anyone react that way before even meeting the other person? Was this normal for people? He couldn't wrap his brain around that behavior even when not drugged to the teeth.

Pondering this new information, Lylla started to wind the thin but sturdy strips of osteo-cloth around Rocket's lower leg, careful to keep the splints in place so they'd hold the mending bones steady. Between the osteo-cloth and a few injections of bone-growth solution, Rocket would probably be walking fine in a few days. "So she's upset about us getting back together, and losing you. That would explain why she's been so bitter toward me."

Rocket nodded; in his drugged daze he failed to notice the phrasing Lylla used, failed to notice that his ex was confident that they were getting back together. "I guess so. I tried to get her to talk about it, but she always evaded the question."

"Well… maybe she's not used to being attached to someone. Gamora doesn't seem like the sort to make a lot of deep relationships with people. But eventually, she'll get over it, Rocket. She'll move on." Lylla had a kinder view of Gamora now; she knew how awful it would feel to lose Rocket again, and couldn't help having some sympathy for the other woman. She tied off the osteo-cloth and started rummaging through her kit for the bone-growth serum. 

"But I don't know if I want her to move on," Rocket protested with as much energy as he could muster. Staring up at the ceiling, he didn't catch Lylla's startled expression that faded rapidly into anger. "I don't know if I love her, but I really like her and I didn't want us to just end!"

"What did you think, Rocket, that you could have both of us?!" Lylla snapped, baring sharp teeth in her indignant anger. "That's not how it works. If you want me, then you lose her. She seems to have accepted that already; why haven't you?"

Now Rocket carefully sat up, turning his sobering attention toward Lylla. The sudden fight seemed to beat away some of the drugged haze, letting him think a little more clearly. Unfortunately, it didn't let him think very thoroughly. "But I never said I wanted you…"

Lylla's mouth opened in a small O of hurt resentment before she snapped it shut, brow furrowing. Dark eyes narrowed, she climbed onto the bed and moved up to abruptly straddle his lap. "You don't want me?" she murmured, her usual cooing tones a touch dangerous. "You and I both know that's not true." She pressed her body to his, dipping her head to nip sharply at his neck, drawing a surprised gasp from Rocket.

"Lylla… that's not what I meant, it's just that-"

"Just what? What can she do for you that I can't? Even our bodies are meant to fit together," she purred and set about proving it, grinding against his lap and feeling the faint hardening of his still-sheathed cock against her belly through their clothing. "I know everything you like. You know all the ways to make me writhe. What could be better than that," she whispered against his neck before lightly biting again, her hands moving between them to start unzipping his jumpsuit.

"Hnng," Rocket replied intelligently. All real thought was beginning to waver, and not just because of the drugs. Lylla felt so good; he remembered all the times she'd proven just how compatible they were. His hands moved to her hips; initially, in his mind, it was to push her away, but his body had different ideas, using the grip to tug her forward a little harder. He shook his head with a frown, trying to clear it, but Lylla didn't give him time.

"See? You still want me," she whispered into the thick fur at his neck as one paw dipped down the front of his jumpsuit to rub against the growing bulge along his belly. Her palm found the rounded knob that protruded from the sheath and started rubbing it, drawing a shaky breath from Rocket and a slippery bead of pre-cum from the tip of his cock. "And I still want you, Rocket…"

And at that precise moment, Rocket wanted her too. Feeling her hips sway as she rubbed her body against his threw him back into the past with the help of the drugged haze and he slid his hands up her back, shuddering as she caressed the exposed tip of his cock. She chuckled softly as she made him squirm, and he growled softly at her, applying a warning nip to her throat that made her coo.

Before long, she was out of her jumpsuit entirely, and his was pushed down to his hips, bunched and crumpled in Lylla's haste to get it out of the way. Both had their hands roaming everywhere, raising ardor rapidly, until finally Rocket's basic sense started to return and made him start questioning.

Did he want to be with Lylla? No, or at least, he hadn't until she climbed up on him and started reminding him so tangibly about the good old times they'd had. It had started to feel like their interrupted relationship was finally getting closure. Did he want to be with Gamora? Even with how testy she'd been lately, he still cared for her, wanted to see where that relationship went. 

And what would Gamora do if he had sex with Lylla?

"Nn.. Lylla.. stop," he murmured in a low, husky voice. Shaking his head, he moved his paws to her shoulders and pushed her back, staring up into her lovely face very seriously. "I can't do this. This ain't what I want.." His body protested strongly otherwise, making him ache, but he held his ground.

For long moments, Lylla stared at him, dumbfounded. He was really going to end things with them, right now? For that endlessly bitchy green-skin? But looking at his earnest expression, she realized he was serious. Whatever he might still feel for her, whatever he felt for Gamora was stronger, more urgent. Her eyes burned, but she stubbornly wouldn't let herself cry. Instead, she swung herself off of Rocket and started tugging her jumpsuit back on in an attempt at dignified silence.

"Lylla," Rocket said softly as he sat up further, tugging his own jumpsuit back up to cover his torso, wriggling his arms into the twisted sleeves. "I'm sorry, Lylla. You're.. you're amazing, you're beautiful, you're everything I remember, but.. I moved on.." And as he said it, Rocket realized he truly had. Long ago, no less; Lylla showing back up in his life had only mixed him up about it for a while. Now, despite the drug-haze, he felt back on track.

"Sure," Lylla whispered disconsolately, not looking up at Rocket. Instead, she turned and headed for the ladder that led to the airlock. When she heard the Raccoon draw a breath to say something further, she shook her head. "Not now. I want to be alone." And with that, she was gone, leaving Rocket to sit on the bed amid his jumble of tangled thoughts.

* * *

Gamora frowned at her console, tracking a series of tiny blips that were almost out of sensor range. At first, she'd figured it was simply a small fleet on their way to wherever small fleets went, but as they'd gone through various jump-points, it had become clear that the Guardians were following this little set of blips. A jump-point or two was coincidence, four was potential trouble. "Peter.. I believe someone is going to get to the Sphere ahead of us," she stated, not bothering to turn around.

Star Lord groaned and put a hand to his forehead. "Please tell me that you just now decided to have a sense of humor."

"If I had, it would be considerably funnier than that," Gamora replied dryly, used to the sarcastic ribbing Peter inflicted on all the crew at some point or other. "There's a cluster of ships just barely within the range of our sensors. We've been following them through four jump-points so far. I expect they're going to get to the Sphere before us; we're not going to be able to catch up with them." She sighed heavily; this entire mission had been nothing but a jumble of problems.

One part of that jumble crossed through the star-chart room as Gamora turned to look at Peter and she frowned, watching Lylla walk toward the airlock. The Otter appeared wilted and unhappy, and Gamora couldn't help feeling a bit pleased. Maybe the little talk with her and Rocket hadn't gone the way Lylla had wanted. Part of her gave a sudden stab of guilt at such malice toward someone who'd never done anything to her, making Gamora dropped her gaze.

Peter saw that Gamora's attention was elsewhere and he turned to observe their temporary companion stepping into the airlock. "Well. She looks terrible," he stated the obvious, then stood, glancing toward Gamora. "Keep an eye on those blips; see if you can figure a way to get ahead of them. I'm going to go see what's wrong."

"She probably doesn't want to talk to anyone, Peter. Just let her go. We don't need her anymore anyway; we've got the Staff."

Peter whistled softly between his teeth and shook his head. "And here I thought Rocket was the callous one." Irritated with the recent behavior of his crew, he turned to jog to the airlock, stepping in just before Lylla could open the second door and board her own ship.

"I. Am Groot." Gamora blinked, still stinging a little from Peter's comment, and peered at the potted plant. She'd never heard Groot sound like he was scolding before. 

Groot was still festively decorated, the glowing white-gold faceted gem balanced atop his head while the multicolored lights were festooned along his arms and down his body. It made a strange contrast to the stern expression on his face. "I am. Groot."

"I'm sorry, Groot, I do not understand what you're saying." But she had a sneaking suspicion. She was being scolded for her attitude toward Lylla. By a tree. And maybe she deserved it; ever since she'd learned the Otter would be coming aboard, she'd been cold and bitchy. Not just with Lylla, but with Rocket too. What must he be thinking?

Groot folded his arms and stared at her for long moments, then sighed. "I am Groot," he said with resignation; there wasn't much he could do as far as a stern talking-to went if the person he was scolding couldn't understand him. These mammals were busily making nests of brambles as if they didn't know they'd have to lay down in them, and Groot just couldn't understand it. It was as though they wanted to be unhappy.

Gamora gave Groot one of those rare gentle smiles that was almost always reserved for the young plant and no one else. "This whole thing has become a real mess, hasn't it?"

Groot nodded sadly, but said nothing.

Sighing, Gamora returned her attention to the console, trying to chart a jump-point course that would put the Guardians ahead of whoever was making such good time toward the Sphere.

* * *

Peter was finally convinced that Rocket and Gamora had gotten together in some sort of romantic relationship he just couldn't wrap his brain around. Deep down, he was seething with jealousy, but on the surface he was pissed off that this was bound to cause some sort of interpersonal disaster that would interfere with the daily workings of his ship. The Guardians could hardly afford to have romantic squabbles mucking up their operations.

Never mind the fact that Peter himself had often thought about being romantically involved with Gamora. In his mind, that wouldn't have caused complications.

Also just in his mind, Peter believed he was righteously angry, willfully ignorant of the jealousy that had taken the wheel and was plotting a course that seemed brilliant. Of course it was brilliant. Rocket and Gamora had to be officially broken up and stay that way, for the sake of the Guardians and their missions. And maybe Lylla could make that happen.

He stepped into the small airlock chamber, hearing the door hiss and clank closed behind him. "Lylla.. what's wrong?"

When the little Otter turned to look at him, Peter was struck by the misery that shone blatantly in her round black eyes. She looked absolutely like hell, so dejected, slumped over at the shoulders, and she just sighed instead of answering.

Peter crouched down to be on eye level with her, a courtesy he never really bothered with when it was Rocket he was talking to. "Hey.. whatever it is, let's talk about it. Did something happen with Rocket?" Of course something happened with Rocket, but she needed a nudge to start talking.

Lylla sighed again and reluctantly nodded. She really didn't want to talk about what had just happened, but Peter seemed so kind and concerned, dropping down so they could be eye-to-eye. "We.. we used to be a couple. But you probably knew that." At Peter's nod, she resumed. "I thought we'd be getting back together. But.. he.." Lylla trailed off as her voice cracked and ducked her head to stare downward, feeling tears well in her eyes.

"What, Lylla," Peter asked gently, reaching out to curl a finger beneath her chin and tilt her head back up. When the tears fell, he brushed them carefully away from her soft, sleek fur. "What happened?"

"He doesn't want me anymore," she said so quietly it was barely audible, tone filled with aching heartbreak, little paws rubbing each other in a dry-washing motion. She'd really thought they were going to pick up where they'd left off; finding out otherwise had hurt her more than she could have imagined. "He wants to be with Gamora."

Even though he'd been almost entirely certain, it still struck Peter like a quick jab and he shook his head as if to clear the thought away. "Why? You'd be so much better for him than Gamora could be. You two are damn near perfect together."

Lylla gave a rapid but brief nod, agreeing wholeheartedly. "I know! And I don't get why my sweet Rocket would want to be with someone so mean, but he seems to have his heart set on her."

'Sweet Rocket'? Peter's brow furrowed a little at the phrase, but he discarded it and moved on. "I think you're right. It's like Rocket doesn't know what's best for him. Those two shouldn't be together; it's just bad all around."

Lylla nodded her agreement again but stayed mute, sniffling softly.

"It's clear you still love him," Peter started cautiously. "Maybe you could do something, talk to one of them, so they figure out how bad this really is going to be for the both of them. Not to mention those of us stuck on a ship with them.."

The petite Otter looked up sharply, eyes bright. "You really think I should?"

Peter nodded solemnly, ignoring the bad feeling he was getting in the back of his mind. Maybe he wasn't doing this for the right reasons after all, but he'd already gotten started. Besides, whatever the motivation, the results would be better for the Guardians if Gamora and Rocket weren't together. "And if anyone can, it's you. It has to be done; just look at how Gamora's been acting. If this keeps up, my crew might fall apart."

That thought was mildly upsetting to Lylla; aside from Gamora's snippy behavior, Lylla had been both impressed and pleased by how well these four--five, counting the plant-- people all worked together. It would be a shame if that were to fall apart because of some badly-considered romance. And she still loved Rocket so much. Surely he must still love her too. It was just that he was all cloudy and tangled because of Gamora. It had to be. "Alright. I'll try. But I'm going to get cleaned up first."

Peter nodded and stood up. "Good luck, Lylla. You can do this." Feeling a shroud of guilt start to settle over him, Star Lord turned and headed toward the galley to look over the star-charts, hoping that this plan wouldn't go too badly for anyone. There was more than one reason a crew might fall apart.

* * *

Drax frowned. He was hardly the sort to eavesdrop on a conversation, but he'd been in the hall by the airlocks when Peter decided to speak with a distraught Lylla about the situation on the ship. It had never occurred to him that Gamora and Rocket could be a couple! But to Drax, it made sense. Their personalities and histories meshed together surprisingly well; the only real issue with the pairing was the difference in anatomy, and apparently that was a difference that could be solved.

He wasn't sure what to make of Peter's meddling. Drax knew that the Star Lord had developed a crush on Gamora almost since they'd met, and while a little light flirting had occurred, it had never gone farther than that… unless he'd somehow managed to miss that, too. No, he was confident it hadn't gone anywhere, but that wouldn't stop Peter from being jealous.

So was this effort with Lylla to sabotage the relationship really for the best interests of the Guardians, or for the best interests of Peter? Brow furrowed, he made his way toward the bridge, lost in thought over the matter. All this skulking around seemed not only malicious, but a waste of time. A problem like this should be handled in a more direct fashion.

* * *

An hour later and Gamora still hadn't figured out a way to get around the blips ahead of them. It was beginning to frustrate the stately assassin. Jump-points often offered ways around things --it's what they were for, after all-- but in this case, there seemed to be no path that would put the Milano and Co. out ahead of the small fleet that was so much closer to the Sphere than they were.

Saurians, most likely. Which meant they were likely to find some form of combat in the near future. At least two of their three ships had decent weapons systems, but for all Gamora knew, that fleet ahead of them was bristling with cannons. It wouldn't be the first time the Guardians had gone up against long odds, but it wasn't something Gamora liked.

She was focused enough on her project that she didn't hear Lylla approach until the Otter was right beside her, peering down at the console with a touch of worry on her small, gently rounded features. Gamora nearly jumped, then huffed in irritation. "You should take more care, Lylla. Startling me is rarely a good idea." There wasn't even anger in those words, just simple truth; assassin reflexes could be dangerous.

Lylla snorted delicately. "Do you always greet people with thinly veiled threats, or am I just a special case?"

Gamora blinked, taken aback by the swift retort. Then she glowered and returned her attention to the console. "I rarely veil my threats at all. You're imagining things."

"Oh really? Like I've been imagining how snippy you've been toward me, and how cold and angry you've been toward Rocket? I'm small, not blind." Lylla folded her arms, and Gamora noticed for the first time that she'd changed out of her jumpsuit. Instead she wore cream-colored shorts and a matching halter, exposing more of that sleek dark brown fur. Dressed like that, she looked pretty instead of cute, and Gamora found herself irritated by that.

"What happens between Rocket and me is personal, and hardly any business of yours," Gamora replied, aloof. "As for you, maybe you're imagining things. Or maybe Rocket is right and I'm 'just mean'." A touch of bitterness spilled into those last words and Gamora sneered faintly into the console.

"You two are terrible for each other. You're so mean to him! When was the last time you two even talked?" Lylla was starting to get frustrated as well; it was completely absurd, the way Gamora had been acting. She didn't love Rocket. Lately, it didn't even seem like she liked him. 

Groot, sitting in the Captain's chair since that was where his pot had been placed after Peter left, looked back and forth between the two as if the verbal spar was a fascinating tennis match. 

"In case you haven't noticed, we've been busy," Gamora growled, turning in her chair to face Lylla and loom a little over the short Otter. "We've got a mission. Just when was I supposed to talk to him, while all of us were stuck in a tiny brig together, crammed like fish in a barrel?" Despite the mild looming, Gamora noticed that Lylla didn't seem the least bit intimidated. If anything, the Otter seemed determined.

"If you care about someone, you make time."

Gamora shifted back a little, stung. Stung by honesty in this case; Lylla was absolutely right. Gamora had been dodging opportunities for any deep conversation with Rocket, and she knew it. It was just easier to distance herself than to risk the sudden pain of being abandoned in favor of another. The way things had been, at least Gamora felt like she had control over the situation. Mostly.

"If all you're going to do is push him away, you should let him go. All you're doing now is making him miserable," Lylla continued, looking as stern as Groot had earlier. "He thinks he knows what he wants, but nobody wants to be abused and abandoned like this!"

She'd never thought of it that way. Dark eyes went wide as she looked down at the Otter, her lips pursed to keep them from parting in an O of surprise. Gamora stood up suddenly enough that Lylla had to backpedal, and she turned and stalked off the bridge before her emotions could get the better of her.

Lylla watched, a little bewildered, as Gamora moved rapidly toward the galley, then looked at Groot. The plant seemed resigned, and shrugged at her. Lylla shrugged back and returned to the airlock to go back to her ship. Maybe now Gamora would finally let Rocket go, and everyone could wind up happy.

* * *

"You shouldn't let the small one hurt your feelings, Gamora."

Gamora was leaning over the star-chart table, hands on the edge, head lowered so that red-tipped brown ringlets spilled forward to partially obscure her features. Outwardly, she seemed calm. Inwardly, she was reeling. Had she really been treating Rocket as badly as Lylla had implied? When her thoughts were broken by the gravelly voice of Drax, her first snippy instinct for a retort was the incredibly absurd 'I don't have feelings'. Which, clearly, wasn't true, so instead of just blurting that out, she drew a deep breath.

Turning, she straightened and folded her arms beneath her breasts, looking up at the refrigerator-shaped tattooed man. "You heard, I take it." Of course he'd heard; Drax had been standing toward the back of the bridge. Gamora had just hoped there'd been no witnesses. By now, the whole ship knew she and Rocket were involved. Had been involved. Whichever.

"I did," Drax said with a touch of grimness in his tone that Gamora didn't quite understand until later. ""I had thought that Lylla coming to the ship would mean that she and Rocket would resume their relationship. It seems as though Lylla thought so too. She was very upset at the rejection."

"Rejection?" Gamora felt as if she was reading a book and had somehow skipped a few pages and missed out on important plot. She pursed her lips and squinted uncertainly at Drax.

"From what I heard, Rocket would prefer you over Lylla," Drax said simply, then glanced to the entryway as Peter unknowingly walked in to unfolding disaster. "But Peter thinks that is a bad idea, for all of us. Peter, you should simply tell her," Drax said helpfully, earnestly. "Gamora is a reasonable woman; there was no need to direct Lylla toward trying to separate them."

Peter paused mid-step and looked appalled at Drax. This had not factored into his plan even a little bit. Slowly, he lowered his foot and turned his head to eye Gamora. To eye the very irate, tall, toned, weaponized warrior-assassin who could turn a paperclip into a lethal object, who was just now staring at him with an unpleasant gleam in her eyes.

"Drax," Gamora said calmly, still staring at Peter. "Would you mind leaving the two of us alone for a bit? I think Star Lord and I need to have a talk."

Not missing the danger in her tone at all, Drax nodded and walked out, letting the door whistle shut behind him. That was not a room he currently wanted to be in anyway. At least everything was finally all out in the open.

* * *

"Gamora, it's not like-" Peter cut off in a grunt as Gamora's full-armed slap sent him staggering back against the wall, leaving a faint ringing in his ears and a blurriness to his vision. Not blurry enough to obscure Gamora's expression of pained betrayal and fury, though.

"How dare you," she snarled, one arm still held stiffly as if prepared to slap again should Peter do anything stupid, like talk. "What gives you the right to interfere?! And don't try peddling any bullshit about 'for the good of the crew' because we both know that had nothing to do with what you did. How could you do something like that to Lylla? To me? How dare you use her to hurt me?"

Peter listened --not having much choice, after all-- and felt a prickle of shame creep across his cheeks. She was right; his decision had come from personal feelings, not trying to take care of his crew, and that made the prickle stronger, until he knew his cheeks were reddened by something other than her slap. "I'm sorry, Gamora, but with the way you've been acting to Rocket lately, I didn't think it would be a big deal…"

Gamora blinked, stared at Peter for a long moment, then spun around to face away from him as she burst into tears.

Star Lord couldn't have been more surprised even if Groot had started quoting Hemingway. "It is a big deal," he murmured with startled realization. "Oh god, Gamora, I didn't know.. I'm so sorry. What can I do?"

Gamora put one hand against the wall, leaning forward and looking down; she'd stunned herself with the sudden burst of emotions. Usually she didn't feel much so strongly, and when she did it was easy to compartmentalize. Until Rocket. Was that a point against the relationship, or in favor? Gamora still couldn't decide. Still irate, she brushed the tears away and muttered, "Nothing. I don't know how to fix it…" It hurt so much, being unable to do anything; it was like being helpless except she'd put herself in that position. It was awful.

"No, there's got to be something that can be done," Peter said earnestly, walking over to lean one shoulder against the wall beside her. "Come on, what happened? Maybe we can figure out a way to put things right again."

Gamora looked warily at Star Lord. After what the human had already done, she had severe misgivings about his sincerity, but when she looked at his flushed face, she realized that he truly was repentant. "It… it started with Lylla. Before she even came aboard, really. Rocket talked about her, and she was perfect.."

"Perfect for him. In ways you couldn't be." Already Peter was beginning to understand; Gamora had sort of sabotaged herself.

She nodded, pushing dark hair back away from her face. "How could I compete with that?"

"So what did you do?" Peter had a pretty good idea of what she'd done--it was surprisingly human of her-- but she needed to actually admit it to herself or nothing would be repairable. 

"I.." Gamora frowned, trailing off, and gave the question more serious thought. "I just.. I assumed they'd be getting back together. So I backed off."

"Gamora.. did you ever talk to him about it?"

Gamora lowered her head and shook it, a little ashamed at the lengths she'd gone to avoiding talking about it. 

"Well, you have to," Peter stated. "Look, all he's probably seen is you pushing him away. What's a guy supposed to think? And Rocket doesn't exactly have a high emotional IQ here; the Milano would probably understand new love better."

Gamora snickered briefly at that comment, then sighed. "How do I even start?"

"You go down to his ship and say 'Rocket, we need to talk about our relationship', then go from there."

"What do I do if it's over?"

Peter frowned a little; for the first time ever, Gamora seemed almost fragile. He'd badly underestimated the feelings going on with his crewmates. "If it's over, then you grieve and move on. But Gamora, I don't think it's over. As long as you talk to him, and soon. Alright?"

Gamora was silent for long moments, contemplating the situation. Talking to Rocket about this just seemed so difficult. She hardly knew how to handle a conversation of that sort. Then again, Rocket probably had even less of a clue. "Alright," she whispered.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go get him before he regains enough strength to hobble away." Peter grinned, trying to bring Gamora a little levity. It seemed to work; she smirked, then turned to head to the airlock. That was when the proximity alarms started blaring.

* * *

"What's going on?" Peter stalked quickly onto the bridge and plopped down in the command chair after moving Groot's pot to the nearby table.

Gamora was still in the process of getting to her station, but Drax chimed in. "The sensors say a large number of drones have emerged from the jump-point we are heading toward."

"Damn. They are most likely sent from the fleet ahead of us, Peter," said Gamora as she slid into her seat. "Looks like they're closing fast; Drax, go let Rocket know he needs to get onto the Milano. Drones might target ship connections." Drax nodded and moved with surprising speed for such a big man.

Lylla came skittering onto the bridge, big dark eyes wide with alarm. "What's going on?"

Saving Gamora the awkwardness of talking to Lylla, knowing that he'd have to have a chat with the Otter later, Peter answered. "We've got drones incoming. Probably Saurian, from the fleet ahead of us. How's your ship in a fight?"

"She's fine, normally.."

"But?" Gamora interjected, glancing toward the Otter.

Lylla sighed. "But against multiple targets, she's almost useless unless I've got a pilot to handle all the flying and I can just focus on the firing."

From the airlock hatch came a tired voice. "Someone call for a pilot?"

"Rocket! Think you're up for some fancy flying?" Peter eyed the Raccoon, noting that he looked just as miserable as Gamora and Lylla. He never should have stuck his nose into this business, but now hopefully it could be resolved. 

Rocket just nodded, glancing a little warily at Lylla. "You need the pilot for your ship?"

Lylla shifted her weight from foot to foot, thick, short tail swaying a little behind her in anxiety. "Yeah.. I can't shoot and fly at the same time, not at a drone swarm.."

"So the Saurians sent a welcoming party. Fine. Let's go blow them up." With the week he'd had, Rocket was quite eager for the peace of desperate flying and explosions.

Lylla nodded reluctantly and gestured for Rocket to follow. The animalistic pair made their way through the airlock.

"Think they'll be able to get along well enough to team up," Peter absently asked.

"I suspect Rocket just wants to take his mind off things by flying a sleek ship like that, and Lylla has enough sense not to let feelings get in the way of surviving." Gamora did not add the 'I hope' that she was thinking; now was hardly the time for pessimism. 

"Alright. Ready the guns," Peter stated as he stepped down to take a seat at the pilot's console. "Let's blow these drones back to dinosaur times."

Gamora gaped at him like he was an idiot; dinosaurs were who sent the damn things in the first place! "Humans," she quietly huffed.

* * *

The inside of Lylla's ship was as sleekly angular and black as his own ship was rounded and white. Rocket knew just where to go, finding the pilot's console immediately and taking a seat, not saying anything to Lylla. At this point, he had no idea what to say; besides, there was work to be done. Now was not the time.

"Separating from the Milano now," Lylla said calmly enough; maybe this wouldn't be terribly awkward after all. There was a rumble and a brief rocking as the little ship disconnected from the big one and Rocket explored the ship's controls. Not what he was used to, but fairly user-friendly. 

Guiding the ship out away from the Milano to give everyone fighting space, he scanned the system they were closest to in the hopes of something useful being nearby, but those hopes were dashed. No fancy asteroid belt tricks or planetary rings fiascos could be done this time. Hopefully the drones weren't especially well armed.

Then he saw them. A glittering diamond formation of silvery-green ships, not quite big enough to house a humanoid pilot. There were perhaps twenty of them. Twenty drones, versus the teardrop ship and the Milano. The odds weren't good.


	9. Staff of the Hierophant Issue #9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outnumbered by drones, will Lylla, after being rejected, be able to work with Rocket to save the Guardians?
> 
> Can Gamora and Rocket finally learn to communicate with each other in the hopes of staying together?
> 
> Will there be a sex scene in this issue?
> 
> FIND OUT.

Staff of the Hierophant #9

Space no longer seemed vast and empty as Rocket watched the twenty ships bearing down on them. Their silvery-green sleekness stood out against the black background and made them seem even more menacing. "If you've got any brilliant ideas, I'm all ears."

Lylla frowned at the human expression Rocket had picked up from Peter. Really, she frowned in general; being stuck on this ship with her ex was uncomfortable, but given the circumstances she was doing her best to work around it. "I figured you Guardians were used to being severely outnumbered."

"Yes, but we don't like it much," Rocket grumbled. It was as awkward for him as it was for the Otter, but now was hardly the time to try and smooth things over. Besides, he didn't think there was any smoothing he could really do. He'd royally screwed up in his talk with Lylla and he knew there was no erasing that. He felt bad; Rocket still cared for Lylla as a person and hadn't meant to hurt her. He'd blame the drugs for making him thoughtless when he spoke, but he knew full well that he was often thoughtless and blunt anyway. "What all is this ship capable of?"

"The Wavedancer can do just about anything you try to put her through," Lylla replied with a touch of pride in her voice. The sleek little teardrop ship had cost her a small, hard-earned fortune, and she was worth every last credit. "Weapons are positioned for omni-directional firing, so you can sweep or roll her however you want and I'll still be able to fire." Lylla tapped in codes on her console and outside, panels slid silently to the sides so that the guns could emerge. Hull-piercing bullets for rapid fire, lasers for precision targeting; between the two the little ship could get away clean from most violent encounters.

"Yeah?" Rocket brightened a bit at the prospect of putting the ship through her paces, triangular ears lifting up with interest. Then the time for easy conversation came to an abrupt end; the silver-green ships opened fire. Rocket let out a little yelp and slammed the joystick forward, turning the Wavedancer on her nose and diving down out of the spray of blaster bolts. "Fuck, sorry, hold on!"

Lylla had refrained from making a sound at the sudden maneuver; she was already strapped in at the weapons console. Instead, she put on a piece of headgear that sat on her head like a circlet, a small screen lowered over one eye to give her a heads-up display. "Don't scratch my ship!" With that warning, she opened fire, sending a hail of bullets along their backtrail into the little fleet of drones.

* * *

It was with a certain amount of glee that Peter took the pilot's chair. With Rocket aboard, he rarely got to actually fly the Milano, and now that danger was striking he was eager to get back to doing what he loved: flying very dangerously. "Someone strap Groot down!"

"I am Grooooot!" said Groot, who didn't want to be strapped down, not that the potted plant had a lot of say in the matter. Drax hoisted him up and plunked him into the empty Captain's chair, belting the pot in as securely as he could. Groot sulked; he'd had a taste of being in control of the Milano's weapons; he wanted to do more than just sit there like an acorn waiting for spring or squirrels. 

"He's strapped in," Drax announced, then stepped to the back of the bridge, holding onto one of the bars that Peter had dubbed 'Oh shit handles', waiting to jump in if needed. But between Peter at the pilot seat and Gamora at the gunner, he suspected he wouldn't see much more work than Groot during this fight.

Gamora watched with worry as Lylla's little ship suddenly dove downward relative to the drones. "We need to break up their formation!"

Peter grinned. "Ramming speed it is."

Gamora bit back a yelp; that wasn't what she had in mind! Yet it was too late to protest. The Milano's engines whined sharply as Peter went from zero to 'oh shit', charging straight at the cluster of silver-green drones. Drax grinned to match Peter, clinging to the appropriately named bar.

* * *

Drones have two methods of operation. The most frequently used is to have a 'pilot' remotely controlling them. The pilot can plot their paths, increase or decrease speed, and target weaponry all from the safety of their mother ship or a comfortable couch. 

The less-used method is less-used because it's all pre-programmed, giving the drones very little capability as far as reacting to changing situations went. They could follow a pre-plotted course, seek out a specific destination or target, and engage in basic combat --which means shooting at the thing until the thing falls apart.

"What in the hell is he doing?!" Lylla looked at the viewscreen in time to see the Milano rev up and start barreling toward the formation of drones.

"Erm," said Rocket, staring at the ship piloted by Peter. "I think he's trying to break up their cluster." He leveled out their ship so that the Wavedancer was just underneath the drone formation, letting Lylla fire straight up.

"But what if they don't move out of the way!" 

"…well, the formation will be broken up either way," deadpanned Rocket with a gap-jaw smirk. Peter was delightfully insane when it came to piloting. "I mean, what are the odds of them being pre-programmed?"

As it turned out, very high.

* * *

 

"They're not scattering!"

Peter didn't respond to Gamora's statement of the obvious. Of course they weren't scattering. It was just his luck that these Saurians would use low-budget, lazy tech to try and kill them. And even if he just cut engines right now, he wouldn't have enough time to reverse the thrusters hard enough to come to a stop… or even slow down much. He'd started this charge and he'd have to finish it.

Behind him, Groot was making a high-pitched noise that could have been excitement or terror. Peter might have made a similar noise if there weren't people around to hear it. Drax, on the other hand, was cackling like a madman; this was exactly the sort of thing the huge humanoid loved.

"Peter, aim for the edge," Gamora suggested, managing to not sound completely frantic. If they caught the trailing edge of the formation they could take out several ships and probably be okay, but if they hit dead center, the damage to the Milano could be catastrophic.

Peter didn't complain. He took the advice given and veered slightly to the side, altering course enough that they wouldn't plow through the middle of the drone group. This way, they'd probably only hit five instead of ten. "Brace!"

Drax grabbed the 'oh shit handle' with both hands and crouched slightly to lower his center of gravity and unlock his knees. Gamora sunk deeper into her chair, as did Peter, both trusting in their harnesses to keep them in their seats. Groot just yelled louder.

Outside the ship was the complete and utter silence of space. Inside was rampant crashing and proximity alarms and shouts of dismay as they barreled through the trailing end of the formation. They hit with enough force to disable the five ships Peter rammed the Milano through, scattering them back toward the jump-point they'd emerged from.

They also hit with enough force to damage the Milano; when the alarms died down, the crew heard something that would strike fear into any space-farers… the sound of wind.

"Fuck! Drax, find that leak and patch it!" 

It was all Gamora had the focus to shout; she suddenly found herself in a target-rich environment. The un-struck ships stayed as they were, pre-programmed and not reacting to a change in situation. Unfortunately, their programming stated to destroy the Milano and any ships found with her. Guns pivoted backward and started firing, and Gamora returned fire shot-for-shot. Size difference alone made the Milano far better equipped, but they were still outnumbered 15 to 2. 

Drax released the handle and dashed to a console, bringing up the ship schematics to find where the hole got punched in their hull. Then he jogged to the wall in the chart-room after grabbing a repair kit from under one of the shelves on the bridge, finding the tiny hole. Amazing how such a small piece of damage could wind up destroying a ship. He wasted no time in putting a scrap of metal over the hole and breaking out the welding torch.

* * *

"They're insane," Lylla murmured with soft awe.

"Yep," Rocket agreed absently. Most of his attention was on the collision of ships; if anything important broke away he'd have to dodge it. And it was good he was paying so close attention, because he had to veer abruptly to the side to avoid one of the disabled drones that came spinning in their direction.

As two more drones went down under the heavy fire from the Milano, Lylla reluctantly grumbled, "She's a good shot."

Rocket grinned and nodded. "Yeah, Gamora's a massive hazard with any weapon." In the distraction of the pitched battle, it was easy to think of Lylla as just a friend he was chatting with. That's what he wanted, and for the moment, that's how it felt.

"Give me a spin upward; let's see if we can sandwich them between us and the Milano."

Easy enough. Rocket, each hand clutching a different joystick, maneuvered the Wavedancer to come up on the other side of the drones, hearing the steady rattling sound of Lylla firing her hull-piercers, targeting one ship at a time to avoid friendly fire. "We've gotta find a way to get some of 'em outta here, Lylla. Milano can't take much more of a pounding."

Lylla was silent for a time, squinting at her heads-up-display, then slowly started to grin. "I have an idea."

* * *

"She wants us to what?" Peter stared at the intercom as if it was at fault for this suggestion.

"No, seriously, it's a great idea!"

"When you say that, Rocket, it usually means it's a terrible idea!"

"Not this time! This time it's awesome. C'mon, just send Drax down to the engine room and have him vent some of the gas build-up."

"I am Groot," Groot put in helpfully. By his tone, he supported the insane plan.

"Hnng." Peter grumbled to himself while dodging incoming fire as best he could; the ship frequently rocked as blaster-fire struck. "Fine! But I still say it's nuts."

"Ha! See you on the other side!" Not fully versed in human colloquialism, Rocket had no idea how ominous his farewell statement sounded.

"Are we seriously going to do that," Gamora asked through gritted teeth as she picked out targets one by one to avoid striking the Wavedancer with the laser beams.

"If ya got any better ideas, I'm all ears," Peter said while sending the Milano into a quick spin to avoid a repeating stream of blaster shots. He'd already wracked his own brain and had come up with nothing better himself; Rocket's plan relied on the drones being programmed to give chase and being unable to react quickly. So the odds were about fifty-fifty. Not odds Peter was a fan of.

He took Gamora's grumbling to be a 'no'.

"Drax, head to the engine room and get ready to vent the gas!" Drax, having finished patching up the hole and adding yet another bit of mismatched metal to give the wall a quilt-like look, turned and headed down.

"Gamora, keep 'em distracted, huh? This is gonna rely on a lot of luck." Gamora nodded grimly, spraying blaster-fire of her own at the cluster of drones.

"Groot… shush." Groot ceased his yelling abruptly enough that the silence seemed almost alarming. The little plant harrumphed and distracted himself by playing with his Christmas lights. He sat strapped into his chair and twinkled.

"Here we go…"

* * *

"Think it'll work?" Lylla glanced toward Rocket, who was intently focused on his piloting, dipping and rolling to avoid the blaster-fire that half the drones kept sending their way. The other half were focused on the Milano. Thus far, she'd only managed to bring down two of the annoying silver-green vessels, bringing the odds down, but not by enough.

"Hell yes I think it'll work," Rocket replied with enthusiasm, but without looking back from the viewscreen. "These things are so dumb they'd follow us into a black hole."

"Okay but let's not do that."

"Black holes are always a last-ditch plan," said the Raccoon in a voice that wouldn't tell Lylla whether he was kidding or not. When he saw the Milano break off and start heading away like she was attempting to escape, he swerved the Wavedancer upward and over the remaining drones. He winced, muzzle crinkling, as he heard the impacts of blaster-fire on the Wavedancer's underbelly, but thus far nothing seemed to have penetrated her well-armored hull.

"Stop scratching my ship!"

"I'm doing my best!" Rocket maneuvered the Wavedancer until she was flying even with the Milano, adding to the appearance of trying to escape. Now that there was no worry of friendly fire, Lylla started unloading bullets toward the rear in a heavy spray, slowing several of the drones down. Of course, the drones had a good clear shot too, and opened fire as well, forcing Rocket to lift and roll, swerving almost into the Milano to avoid the bulk of the blaster-fire.

"You sure the Milano can handle this?" Lylla sounded dubious; the Milano didn't really look like much.

"Oh yeah. Might need some maintenance after, but she can do it."

* * *

If drones could be startled, the silvery-green vessels would be. All of a sudden, both ships were flying together, and they abruptly engaged in a set of flying acrobatics that would have impressed audiences on any planet. Up, then suddenly down, splitting apart and coming back together, rolling and soaring with ease. The drones, not programmed to react to such a display, simply did as they were designed to do: They followed, not knowing that they were being tested and disoriented, their guidance systems not being able to keep up with the sudden course changes. All they could keep track of was the two ships they were sent to destroy.

The sudden cloud of vapor emitted by the Milano jammed their sensors even further; the little blips of the two ships were all they could 'see'. System maps became useless, but there wasn't anything to run into except the two ships, and they were a bit behind both of them.

Too far behind. The drones put on some extra speed now that the ships they'd been sent after appeared to be moving in a straight line. Which meant that when the ships suddenly split in two different directions at right angles, the drones kept going.

* * *

Peter winced at the sound of his precious engines complaining vigorously about that right angle turn; he'd have to put her in dock soon and have her checked over and properly repaired. The wince was also at the crush-like pressure of his harness as the turn threatened to toss him and Gamora right off their chairs, though the green-skinned woman seemed hardly fazed by it.

Both of them looked back, trusting that Lylla had the coordinates programmed already. There was a flare of light as the jump-point activated and the drones couldn't compensate fast enough. Through the jump-point they went, to the cheers of the Guardians on the Milano.

Peter grinned cheerily, pressing the intercom button to communicate with the Wavedancer. "Where did you send them?"

Lylla's voice came with static over the intercom. "No idea. But at least a couple hundred jump-points away. The stresses alone might just rip them apart."

"Good. Plan."

* * *

"We need to talk…"

Once they got the Wavedancer properly tethered to the Milano again, the crew plus Lylla had gathered back up to celebrate their unlikely victory. Rocket and Gamora were on the bridge, while Peter, Drax, and Lylla were in the galley working toward dinner. Or, at least, Drax was working toward dinner; Peter was staring uncomfortably down at Lylla.

"Um.. kay?" The Otter tilted her head to one side, a little perplexed. 'We need to talk' was never a sentence that boded well.

"See, it's about what we were talking about earlier in the airlock," Peter awkwardly began, trying to find the proper words for this, which would absolutely need to include an apology.

Drax watched Peter fumble for phrasing and shook his head. So he took matters into his own huge hands. "Peter is failing to say that trying to sabotage the relationship between Rocket and Gamora is improper and done for questionable reasons."

Peter heaved a sigh and cast a dirty look in Drax's direction before crouching down and returning his attention to Lylla. Poor girl looked so nervous, unhappiness beginning to cloud over that brief joy of victory. "More or less, yes. That. What he said."

"What do you mean, questionable reasons?" Lylla tilted her head to peer far up at Drax.

Peter opened his mouth in the hopes of cutting off Drax, but failed. "Peter has been interested in Gamora, even though they are completely incompatible. It is sad, the way he continues trying to chase, but perhaps that is simply part of what Earthers obsess over. He fails each time, but Peter is stubborn! He would not be able to keep trying though, if Gamora was with another."

Lylla frowned, brows furrowing together, and peered at Peter, her voice flat as an anvil. "Is this true, Star Lord?"

Again, twice in the same day, Peter felt the heated sting of a blush slide over his cheeks. With it put in such bleak, direct perspective, he felt ashamed that the thought of breaking Rocket and Gamora up even entered his mind. He sighed again. "Yes. There was also the issue of things going badly with my crew, but yes, what Drax says was part of it."

"So now I'm supposed to.. what? Leave them together?" Lylla sounded put off by the very idea, and a little hurt by it as well.

"You should try to have a friendship with Rocket instead of a romance," Peter said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "He's completely gone over Gamora; he moved on. If you still care about him, don't you want him to be happy?"

Now it was Lylla's turn to be stung; she hadn't thought of it like that. And of course she wanted Rocket to be happy. She just wanted him to be happy with her. Her lower lip quivered as she looked down with a muted sniffle, tears welling in big brown eyes.

"Oh god, no, Lylla, it'll work out okay!" Even to Peter's ears that sounded like a lie, but he didn't want the poor little Otter to be so miserable. It was partly his fault, and he wanted to make it better, but he knew he really couldn't. At that moment he'd have done just about anything to stop her from crying.

"No, Peter. It is a sad thing, like any loss. She is allowed her tears." Drax frowned and shook his head, eyeing Peter. "Many Earthers seem to find shame in crying, as though it is weak. Silly. Tears are cleansing. When they are done, they leave you stronger. Let her cry."

Peter frowned a little at that, but nodded, looking at Lylla. He opened his arms, hesitantly offering a hug, and was surprised when the Otter took him up on it. She moved close and hung onto him, crying into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Lylla," he murmured. "I should never have gone to you like I did. I wish I could take it back." Gently, he stroked the soft, sleek fur along the back of the Otter's head. Drax nodded, satisfied, and resumed making dinner.

* * *

"We need to talk…"

The bridge had been quiet. Gamora assumed it was discomfort and uncertainty; at least it was for her. She kept glancing over to Rocket at the pilot seat, wondering if she should even tell him what Peter tried to do. If she did, he might well express his displeasure by means of explosive ordinance. 

Of course, there was always the chance he'd find out anyway; Drax had a big well-intentioned mouth. Maybe she should have a chat with him soon about keeping that bit of information to himself.

Then, suddenly, Rocket had swiveled his chair to face her and spoke those four ominous words. She nearly froze in place, staring at him with big eyes, hating the way her heart seemed to skip a beat. "What about?"

"Us," Rocket replied simply. Gamora had been trying to work herself up to bringing up this very topic; maybe she should be thankful that Rocket did it for her.

Gamora stared at him, and Rocket stared back. Silence stretched like pulled taffy, never snapping, just getting thinner and thinner.

"…how do we do that?"

Rocket blinked, then threw his head back in harsh gape-jawed laughter, clutching at his stomach. Of all the responses Gamora could have made, that was absolutely the funniest. And, after a moment of thought he realized, probably the saddest, because he had no idea either.

"I dunno," he said, still snickering. "Mouth moving, words happen. That's how it works, right? It's just like talking, except about feelings."

A wry little smirk had twisted Gamora's lips at Rocket's outburst of humor. Even in her current unsure state, she could see the comic appeal in her statement, especially because she was nearly certain he had no clue either. "So, pick a place to start."

"Hey, wait, why do I have to start?!"

"Because you said the four magic words, that's why."

Rocket visibly counted on his fingers what had four words, than realized she referred to his opening statement. "Oh. Fair." Now, how was he supposed to start?

"Maybe start with why we need to talk," Gamora suggested helpfully. Anything to keep most of the conversation on him; she felt like she was fumbling even thinking about how to phrase the confusing things she felt. Actually speaking of those things would be much more difficult.

"You've been being standoffish and bitchy ever since you heard we'd be meeting up with Lylla. What gives?"

In retrospect, maybe Gamora would have been better off leading the conversation. Rocket's bluntness stung. Under the circumstances it was probably necessary, but still. She flinched a little and glanced away, frowning, trying to organize the words.

To her surprise, Rocket stayed quiet and let her sort through her thoughts and feelings; possibly he was doing the same. "You'd talk about how perfect she was… what a great relationship the two of you had. How you missed the old times. I just… I figured, with her back in the picture, you two would get back together again."

"Well why didn't you say anything?" Rocket couldn't help but squawk a little in his tone from frustration; they could have had a much more pleasant trip these past few days if she'd just said this up front.

"I don't know!" Gamora threw her hands up in the air and turned away, starting to pace. "I didn't want to be in the way, I guess. Figured you'd be happier with her than with me."

"But why? Why would you think that?"

"Well, wouldn't you?"

"No, that's why I turned her down!"

"There was something to turn down?" Gamora pivoted to peer at Rocket questioningly. 

Crap. "Yes, there was, and it was turned down! I'm over Lylla, Gamora. It took meeting up with her again to realize that, but it's over. And eventually she'll move on too."

What had happened that Rocket turned down? Gamora felt a flare of jealousy and squinted at the Raccoon, who seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable beneath her stare. "…no, I don't want to know." Rocket visibly relaxed. "So… there's really nothing going on?"

Rocket shook his head hard enough to make his triangular ears wiggle. "She thought there still was, but she knows now. I've moved on." He leaned forward, peering seriously at Gamora. "I moved on with you."

Gamora was a little startled to feel the heat of her cheeks darkening in color, and the slow spread of warmth that his words brought. Her heart did a little stammer from mingled relief, pleasure, and surprise. "So.. you want us to keep going?"

Rocket rolled his eyes heavenward; when would she get it? Of course he wanted to be with her. That was the whole point of what he just said. But he restrains himself, not snapping in sarcasm the way he normally would. "Yes. I wanna to see where we go. I don't know what we are to each other yet, but yeah, I wanna find out. Don't you?" He suddenly regretted that little question; what if she didn't? His perked ears start wilting out to the sides.

"Yes," Gamora said quietly, glancing down. She frowns a little to herself, still not entirely thrilled with that feeling of vulnerability that had been associated with Rocket recently. But the past couple of days, the sadness and the jealousy, had shown her she really did want to be with him.

Rocket's ears perked back up and he gave her a sly grin that showed pointy teeth. "Wanna go and celebrate?"

Gamora drew back a little, startled, then snickered. "You wish to jump right back in, then?"

"Right back into bed."

* * *

 

The lights on the little white ship were dimmed; while they lacked candles for romantic lighting, they made up for it as best they could. A bottle of strong wine sat on the nightstand, but its cork was still in place; they no longer needed the inhibition-lubricant of alcohol for this.

To Gamora's mild disappointment, Rocket had promptly divested himself of weaponry and his jumpsuit. She understood; he was still self-conscious about his appearance and the signs of mechanical tampering implants down his back, but she would have liked to undress him. He made up for it by hopping up onto the bed so he could undress her.

Rocket took his time slowly unzipping her jumpsuit down to a bit below belt level, displaying a widening V of emerald skin. He slipped his paws beneath the spread-open collar and slid it off her shoulders; she helped with the tight sleeves, then stood topless for his admiration.

And he did admire. Gamora was incredibly beautiful; it baffled Rocket that he hadn't noticed sooner. Shadows from the dim light played over the muscles of her stomach, painting her abdominals in forest green; she was so strong! Athletic and nimble, Gamora was the peak of physical perfection, even if that perfection did come about through chemical and mechanical enhancements. In that way, she was so much like him, just designed for an entirely different set of tasks.

The removal of fabric displayed the pert roundness of her full breasts, the darker green flesh of her nipples tightening to a pebbly texture on exposure to air. Or maybe it was arousal that made them stand out stiffly. Rather than continue to undress her, paw-like hands moved to caress her breasts, squeezing the firm flesh. He leaned in to lap his tongue over one perky nipple, getting a shaky gasp in response. Pleased, he opened his mouth to carefully take that nipple between his teeth, biting down ever so carefully and flicking his tongue over the hardened tip, making Gamora moan low in her throat.

He explored her breasts further with his paws and his mouth, suckling on her nipples and letting his teeth scrape the flesh, a sensation that Gamora quite enjoyed, judging by her shuddering breaths. She stroked the fur between his ears and trailed her fingertips down his back, tracing around the implants, hoping the loving touch would slowly give him better self-esteem in regards to what had been done to make him. If they hadn't been done, she would never have known him.

Time passed. Moments or minutes, it didn't seem to matter. One hand drifted down from cupping her firm breast to dip into the open V of her jumpsuit, snaking lower to tease his fingertips along her smooth slit. Gamora nearly jumped at the sensation, surprised at how sensitive she'd turned out to be to his skilled touch. One fingertip slid between her tender folds to nudge experimentally at the swollen nub of her clit. Gamora shuddered hard, her petting of his head and back pausing as she tilted her head back with a breathy moan that brought a wicked grin to Rocket's muzzle. He very much enjoyed making her produce noises like that. He planned to have her make a lot more tonight.

He was incredibly aroused, though with how they were positioned she couldn't really see the proof of it. His pink cock had slid free of its sheath, standing up proud against his belly, the almost spherical head gleaming faintly with the moisture left behind by drops of pre-cum that had built up. He wasn't really embarrassed about his size and shape anymore; she seemed to quite enjoy herself during previous love-making. Now he was sure he'd be able to please Gamora even if they didn't appear to be physically compatible. "Take everything off." His voice came out in a soft growl, husky with desire.

Gamora smirked down at him and took a step back, turning to the side. Taking her time, she bent over purely to tease him, slowly tugging the tight jumpsuit the rest of the way down and stepping out of it. The shameless display of her body made Rocket shiver a little in anticipation. Desire heated her eyes further when she caught sight of just how ready he was, and she turned a little to take a leisurely lick up the underside of his cock, drawing a groan from him that pleased her to no end. 

Then she crawled onto the bed, movements slinky and sensuous by nature, but she watched him to see what effect they had on him anyway. Gamora could see his cock twitch a little as it got harder still and she grinned, meeting his eyes. "Come on… I'm flexible; I think we can find a position to continue the foreplay…"

She lay down on her side and stretched like a cat, body on beautiful display for Rocket's appreciative stare. Gamora parted her legs, one bent knee pointed up to expose her pussy, the faint musky scent making the Raccoon's pupils dilate with increased arousal. He didn't want for her to elaborate on her statement, instead laying down on his own side perpendicular to her body, resting his cheek on her thigh. From there, he casually lapped at her delicate folds, slipping his tongue into the slit to taste the tangy flavor of the sensitive flesh beneath.

Gamora let out a louder moan, for a moment losing track of what she'd intended to do. His tongue felt so good, and he knew the exact right places to tease with it. When she opened her eyes and caught sight of that tantalizing cock, though, she remembered her intentions. Reaching down, she curled her slender fingers around the base of the shaft and gave a slow, hard squeeze that had Rocket arching toward her hand. Bending at the waist, she curled herself downward until she brushed parted lips across the head, bringing a startled gasp from her lover that made her grin. While a traditional 69 wasn't possible, they'd still be able to please each other plenty.

Rocket contented himself with the feel of her tongue swirling around the tip of his cock and the steady stroking she applied to the shaft with her hand, not bothering to thrust. Thrusting would have taken his concentration away from more important things. He teased Gamora mercilessly, circling his tongue around her achingly tender clit without ever actually touching it, then licking down along the frills of her inner labia to do the same thing to her entrance. Always teasing, never hitting the perfect spots. Soon Gamora started to whimper in protest, little jerks along her limbs the results of her shivers. Finally she gasped out, "Stop teasing," and he did as requested, plunging his nimble tongue deep into her pussy, making her cry out. 

Once over the sensuous shock, Gamora dipped her head lower and took his cock into her mouth, sucking firmly and rubbing over the incredibly smooth skin of the head with her tongue. Her hand picked up pace, stroking him faster, squeezing a little harder. The feel of his tongue lapping inside her pussy, brushing over that sensitive patch of flesh at the front, had her nearly ready to cum. And by the way he was squirming, he wasn't far either. But she didn't want things to end now; she wanted to fuck her lover badly. "Rocket," she purred breathily. "Can you go more than once?"

Rocket snickered and ceased his oral ministrations to nip at her inner thigh, growling, "I can go forever."

Gamora laughed softly, though it wouldn't really surprise her to learn that Rocket was speaking the pure truth. "Then stop holding back. Cum with me," she cooed enticingly.

Rocket, in response, immediately plunged his tongue back into her snug opening, licking up the tangy nectar her arousal had created. She was right; he was close. He'd been holding back for her benefit, but she made it perfectly clear what she wanted. Score one for good communication. One hand made its way to sit beside his muzzle, the fingertips starting to vigorously rub over her clit, finally paying that sensitive nub of flesh proper attention.

Gamora arched almost immediately, crying out her pleasure, and Rocket had to lick and suckle quickly at her flesh to drink down the musky juices that flowed around his busy tongue. Intending to prolong her pleasure and get her ready for another round, he continued tongue-fucking her and rubbing at her clit, though mere moments later he was almost too distracted to move.

His orgasm hit hard while Gamora was arched back, so ropes of hot cum shot out to splash against her breasts and throat. She stiffened, shivering with even more pleasure at the sensation and immediately dipped her head to wrap her lips tight around the tip of his cock. She stroked him hard and fast through his climax, swallowing down his salty cum with an eagerness that surprised her. Of course, it also surprised her to find out that she liked getting messy; the warm feel of cum spatters on her chest was incredibly erotic to the green-skinned woman.

Moments later, they separated to gasp for breath, little aftershocks of pleasure running through both of them. Gamora's panting exhales were tinged with high, barely-there moans, while Rocket's came out with the thrum of a soft growl. Once she had the ability to speak coherently again, Gamora murmured, "I hope you're not done."

"Mmm.. nope. Lay on your back." He shivered a little, then managed to stand up, watching her roll onto her back and spread her bent legs wide. The view was so erotic it made his breath catch for a moment. "You're.. just so stunning," he said softly, a little awestruck by the beautiful, surprisingly erotic woman.

Gamora felt a blush in her cheeks that had nothing to do with her rising arousal and she glanced almost shyly away. "You're not too bad yourself, you know. Especially with your… skills," she added with a wry grin, meeting his eyes again.

Rocket's jaw gaped a little in a grin back at her, exposing sharp teeth that had scraped so enticingly over such tender flesh recently. He moved between her thighs and got onto his knees, letting his still-hard cock rest against her wet pussy. He hadn't been lying; his animal anatomy and instincts really could let him go for multiple rounds, though tonight he intended to content himself with two.

Instead of shoving in eagerly --much as part of him wanted to-- he pushed slowly until the rounded head slipped into her snug opening, moving deep enough to nudge at her tender G-spot. This time, he intended to take it slow, though he wasn't sure how long those intentions would hold. The darkened look in her steady, shameless gaze made it seem like she wanted a good hard fucking, but he was determined that at least a few minutes of this time would be slow and loving. After all they'd just been through, they both deserved that.

Leaning forward, he placed his hands on the faint ridges of her hips to either side of her belly and slowly started to rock back and forth, only pushing in a few inches at a slow and steady pace. He wanted to stroke that so sensitive patch of flesh until she was ready to scream.

With how incredible it felt, it probably wouldn't take Gamora long to be ready to scream either. While she badly wanted him to bury his cock to the hilt inside her, what he was doing was amazing by itself. It left her aching for more while sending jolts of pleasure through her that made her muscles twitch each time he rubbed up against that spot. Hazily, she tried to recall if any lover had gone slow and loving with her before, and she couldn't remember any. This was a new experience, a wonderful one. Her fingers curled tightly into the sheets, needing to clutch something, and her back arched and bowed; still pleasured by the aftershocks of her previous climax, she was primed and ready for another one. 

She decided not to hold back, rocking her hips in rhythm with his, moving her body in dance-like undulations while watching bliss light up Rocket's eyes. She felt her slick tunnel squeeze tight, and knew he felt it too by the way his body twitched. "Don't stop," she managed to whisper before gripping the sheets tighter, arching with a cry of ecstasy as heat snapped inside her, spilling musky nectar to drip along the length of his cock and soak the white bedding beneath her. 

The moment he felt that tightening grip on his cock, Rocket decided that love-making time was over. With a low, hungry growl, he shoved his hips forward hard enough to make a slap sound when their bodies met, driving his cock hilt-deep within the snug, wet confines of her pussy. That heat felt incredible, as did the slick wetness soaking into his fur, and he reveled in the way she arched again and cried out; if she gripped the sheets any tighter, they'd rip. He wouldn't mind. Losing himself in the pleasure, he started fucking her hard and fast, unaware that his claws were lightly digging into the green flesh at her hips.

Gamora was certainly aware of that pricking sensation, suspecting that a little blood was being drawn, but she didn't object. Little bits of pain served as a spice for the pleasure, giving it contrast and making it seem even more intense. As her climax reluctantly faded, she found herself feeling hazy, warm with lingering bliss that spiked as her lover suddenly started giving her the hard fucking she'd initially yearned for. It was a good thing they were alone on the little ship, for her sharp cries gained in volume each time he drove forward so hard, making her breasts bounce and her stomach muscles tighten.

For a time, they lost themselves in each other. If Rocket had been a full-size man leaning over her, he'd have had a collection of scratch marks down his back; instead his sheets suffered at her nails, tearing a little when she gripped too hard. She didn't think he'd mind. His own claw-like nails left their marks along her hips, pricking just deep enough to draw a little blood without doing any real damage. He became aware of it, and also became aware, by her reactions, that she was enjoying it, so Rocket didn't stop. If she liked having a little bit of pain with sex, he could provide that for her, and seeing the way she writhed was reward enough. 

He was holding back, wanting to bring her to a third climax before letting go himself, and the strain was beginning to ache by the time her cries turned to mewling whimpers. Her eyes were shut tight and her stomach muscles hard, limbs twitching; he knew she was right there. Panting, he moved one hand from her hip between their bodies to flick his fingertips over her clit, and that was enough to send her over the edge.

As her orgasm hit, so did his, mingling her cries and his growling groans together in ecstasy. He shoved in deep and stayed there, cock throbbing against the tightened grip of her walls as he shot hot, sticky cum deep into her tunnel. She cried out even louder as she felt that, bucking against him as if she was as eager to draw out his pleasure as he was hers. For a moment, time seemed to stand completely still.

When it started moving again, he fell back to sit on his heels, sliding out of her slowly as his shaft began to grow limp; Rocket was done for the night unless she requested another round. But he didn't think she would. His cock started to slip back into the sheath as he tried to catch his breath. When he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Gamora rubbing his cum into the flesh of her breasts and throat sensuously with her hands as if it were nourishing lotion, seeming to take pleasure in the sensations and the new experience. His jaw dropped a little. "That's.. that's really hot… I'll have to do that more."

Gamora chuckled, the sound as sensual as her movements, still shrouded in the afterglow of intense, repeated pleasure. "Yes, you will," she purred, and Rocket shivered a little at the thought. He moved to lay down at her side, on his back and still breathing hard. Together, they lay in silence for a time.

Gamora looked around the little white ship, and a thought popped into her head. "What are you going to name this new vessel of yours?"

Rocket blinked, having to catch up with the sudden conversation that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Then a frown crinkled his muzzle and he gave the question some consideration. The little ship had seen a lot in the short time he'd had it. In that short time, he'd seen a lot too. He'd almost lost something he'd barely realized was so important to him, all because of bad communication. Yet here they lay, together again. "…I think I'll name her "Second Chance"."


	10. Staff of the Hierophant #10 (Double Issue!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this last (Double!) issue of Staff of the Hierophant, the Guardians finally meet the Mixed Saurians whose ancestors had come from Jeleyah Prime. Together, they seek the Sphere only to find it has been taken from the greedy clutches of the Herbivores by the Kree! Is the enemy of your enemy truly your friend?

After spending some time on Wavedancer that mostly involved crying, Lylla locked her ship to the Milano and boarded, looking for something to do that would get her mind off of losing Rocket. Oh, she hadn't really lost him, because that would require her having him first, but it still felt a lot like a breakup. Messy. 

She didn't want to see Rocket or Gamora, and when she didn't find them on the Milano, she was upset by that too. Her emotions were raw. All that stopped her from returning to her own ship and perhaps being on her way was a persistent beeping sound that came from the galley where the star map was located.

Curious as a normal otter, Lylla wandered in and found nobody there either, to her relief. What she did find was the translator program beeping its nonexistent head off. She sat down at the console and tapped a few keys to see what had been translated, and within moments, all thoughts of the breakup were forgotten.

Apparently while the Guardians had been searching the Saurian library on Jeleyah Prime, they took digital copies of whatever happened to strike the fancy of each individual. Lylla could tell which items were grabbed by Rocket; technical manuals and weapons schematics, tactical studies and war history. The rest was a hodgepodge that included some financial records, city planning records that were most likely incorrect decoys, a cookbook of all things, and several journals. The translator had been working this whole time on getting all of those items ready for reading, and the Guardians had just forgotten about it all what with everything else that was going on.

It was the histories and the journals that held Lylla's rapt attention, and over the next several hours, the little Otter learned more about the Saurians of Jeleyah Prime than the Guardians had figured out from being on the planet. About how the Saurian races had initially lived together, until a more radical group of herbivores decided that, since technology put them on the same footing as their ancient predators, it was time to take over and show the carnivores how it felt to be at the bottom of the pile. About how a group of herbivores and carnivores, seeing everything go to hell around them, gathered up scientists, scholars, engineers, and anyone wanting to continue cohabitation, and went off to form colonies. About how each colony was designed like a fortress, and each colony went about designing and building the Spheres with the intention of them becoming new homes, all the while creating weapons and defenses to keep themselves safe. About how, finally, before the now-vicious herbivores could catch up with them, they left in their Spheres, finding nebulae to hide within and use as fuel. About how a few Spheres were left empty, waiting for a growing population to need them. 

And apparently, they never came back for those empty Spheres.

Lylla wondered with a bit of melancholy what happened to the Jeleyans. They, and the colonies they built, simply wanted to live in peace. And to achieve peace, they had to create incredible weapons of war. Not knowing what happened to them was a hollow mystery that would likely bug Lylla for quite a while.

But there was an important tidbit buried in all of that melancholy: The Staffs were interchangeable. Even the data cylinders were interchangeable. Suddenly, Lylla wondered… how many Staffs were assembled? And did all of them have tracking devices so the Saurians could find each other? Rounded ears perking in alarm, she rushed toward the cockpit.

* * *

"I'm picking up something on the sensors, Peter," started Gamora, sounding unusually unsure of herself. "…I think."

"…you think?" Peter stood with a frown, eyeing the green-skinned woman; it was highly unlike her to be uncertain of her readings… or much else, for that matter.

"They keep fading in and out, but when they are 'in', they appear to be ships on our backtrail. Ships that are catching up."

"Saurians," came a small voice at once, and Peter spun, surprised, to see Lylla scamper onto the bridge.

"The Staff," Lylla said quickly before Peter could do more than take a breath. "Staffs. Staves? Whatever. They have tracking devices in them. The cylinders, I mean. When they're fully assembled." She took a deep breath to calm herself and started again. "When the Staffs are fully assembled, they activate a tracking device that Saurians can follow."

"That would explain the half-stealthed blips that are following us," Gamora said grimly. "But our staff isn't fully assembled; there's a crystal that goes on top of it." She frowned, turning to peer at Rocket. "Where is that crystal, anyway?"

"On Groot's head; I used it for the holiday star light."

"Of course you did," said Peter in a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Will putting it on the staff make any difference?"

"I doubt it," said Lylla. "They're already tracking us; I think the crystal may just be part of a processing matrix. Or hell, a shiny decoration. Who knows."

"I am Grooooot." The potted crew member had gathered the 'star', a rounded and faceted pale crystal, to his chest.

"I'll make you another one," said Rocket over his shoulder, gaze focused on his piloting console.

"I am Groot!" 

"I thought you hated hats!"

"I am Groot?"

"Yes, that counts as a hat; you wear it on your head, dontcha?"

"I… am Groot." Defeated, the plant held out the crystal and Peter took it, unscrewing it from the twisted wires so Groot could still be decorated in the colored lights.

"Staff's in the galley, right?"

"I believe so, Peter," replied Gamora, still frowning at her console. "…which Saurians do you think these are?"

Peter frowned at the back of Gamora's head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… carnivores? Herbivores? Mixed colonists?"

"The colonists are the ones who made the Spheres! They were going to use them as new homes to escape the Herbivores, and there were a few empty ones left, but I don't know what happened to the colonists."

Lylla shrank a bit as four pairs of eyes focused on her. "…I did a little reading?"

"Right," said Rocket with a touch of humor. "So maybe these Saurians chasing us are friendly?"

"One way to find out." Peter sat down in his chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Full stop. Let's see if they say hello."

"What if they say hello by shooting at us?" Gamora glanced back over her shoulder, raising a brow.

"Then we say howdy right back at 'em."

Rocket grinned.

* * *

Waiting for the ship blips to catch up was boring. Gamora sighed, watching them wink in and out on her screen; each time they came back they were a little closer. She wondered if they were slowing down intentionally; even she had to admit that the Guardians looked a little suspicious, suddenly stopped in the middle of empty space. She might slow down too, expecting a trap.

She didn't give voice to her thoughts; knowing Rocket he'd think a trap was a great idea and go about rigging something to blow up. A little fond half-smile curled her lips as she thought of the Raccoon, one she quickly smoothed to an expression of neutrality. Lylla was on the bridge and there was no need to rub it in.

Gamora found herself feeling a little sorry for the Otter. She really must have had her hopes up to believe so strongly that she and Rocket were getting back together. In some ways she almost felt like 'the other woman', but that was a feeling she did her best to banish whenever it rose up. Hurt as Lylla may be, she and Rocket had done nothing wrong… well, besides their completely appalling lack of communication with each other, anyway.

Pushing her wandering thoughts aside, Gamora focused her full attention on the blips. They vanished, and she waited for them to appear again… but they failed to do so. Her brows furrowed, making a little crinkle between them and she stared at the console as though giving it a dirty look would somehow make the blips manifest.

It worked.

Suddenly proximity alert klaxons were going off all over the ship as the blips revealed themselves right up close. Six of them, one for each side of the Milano plus top and bottom. They were effectively boxed in. "They're here," Gamora said pointlessly.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," shouted Peter over the klaxons. "Somebody turn those damned things off!"

"I aaaaaaam Groot!"

Suddenly everything went quiet. Peter turned and saw the ever-shirtless Drax standing by one of the panels near the archway, having just done what Peter demanded. "Thank you." Drax nodded.

"They're not here to attack."

Peter glared at Rocket. He couldn't help himself; he was still jealous. He'd have to find a way to either be rid of that or ignore it soon, before it started causing problems among the crew. "What do you mean, they're not here to attack? What makes you think you know?"

Rocket turned in his chair to give Star Lord one of those smug smirks he was so good at. "Because of how they're positioned. There's no way any one of them could fire on us without a miss hitting one of his buddies. They're just keeping us from goin' anywhere."

"He's right," Lylla piped up, wandering to the front of the bridge and peeking between one console and the other, a little anxious about standing in between Gamora and Rocket. Her nerves were still a little fried; the Otter felt fragile. Her tail twitched impatiently. "Can we try hailing them?"

A beep came from Gamora's console. "Too late. It appears that they've decided to hail us." She glanced back at Peter, and at his nod, tapped a few buttons to bring the transmission through to the bridge.

"Mammalian ship! You are surrounded. We are here for the Staff. Prepare to be boarded. If you hand it over, no one will be harmed." The voice was harsh, with a steady growling sound underlying each clipped word. Rocket and Gamora looked first at each other, than over their shoulders at Peter.

"..erm.. yeah. Reptilian ship. Why don't we.. um.. talk about it?" Peter shrugged wildly as those on the bridge stared at him. "Face to face! Or snout. Or bill. Or whatever you have.. oh fuck it, just send someone aboard, will ya? This whole thing is a pain in the ass."

A click came as communications were cut off. Gamora sighed heavily and looked over her shoulder at Peter. "Ever the diplomat."

"Well what was I supposed to say? 'We have your staff thingie and want your Sphere'?"

"I ammm… Groot!"

"Yeah, he does have a point, Gamora."

"Thank you, Rocket," said Peter.

"But she's right, you're a shitty diplomat."

Peter sighed heavily.

Any further bickering was interrupted as something jostled the Milano, and then there was the shift and hiss of air changing pressure as one of the Saurian ships linked up to them. "Who wants to go greet our guests?"

"You did the talking; you do the greeting," replied Rocket, smirking at Peter. 

"You're right, Rocket. Shouldn't be you; you look like food."

"Hey!"

"Boys… if you don't settle down, I'll go inform them that both of you are edible." Drax snickered at Gamora's threat. "Peter, get going, or we'll be forced to send Groot."

"I am Groot."

"He says Groot's not here."

"Of course he does," Gamora sighed, then got up from her console and strode toward the airlock. "I'll go meet whoever is coming through; you children sit and bicker some more."

Lylla sniffed and rolled her eyes at Peter and Rocket, then turned and followed curiously after Gamora.

"You're in the doghouse now, Rocket," Peter chuckled.

"I am not a dog! What's a dog?!"

* * *

 

Lylla and Gamora stood side by side, each occasionally casting sidelong glances at the other while neither said anything. It was awkward, but more pleasant than listening to the men bluster and procrastinate. Gamora knew Peter was a champion at procrastinating and could have kept their new guests cooling their heels for hours. Not a diplomatic start.

When the airlock hissed open, both women took a small involuntary step backward, Gamora's hand drifting to the rod at her belt that would flip out into a sword while Lylla dropped her hand to the gun holster at her hip. That probably wasn't very diplomatic either, but the Guardians had been assaulted by drone after drone; suspicion hung thick in the air.

It was true for the Saurians too; the first thing to emerge from the circular hatchway was the barrel of a very large gun. Gamora couldn't help but think of Rocket. He'd love that thing even though it was bigger than him, and he'd find a way to use it. Tension threaded tight around the women, then was abruptly cut as the person holding the gun stepped out of the shadows.

'Person' wasn't quite the right word, but neither Gamora nor Lylla knew what would have been. Before them stood a tall bipedal creature so wide his? general shape was 'square', with an elongated neck and a round face split by a lipless mouth. Docile eyes were more toward the front of its head than the sides, more like a predator, though when it sighed with relief that everyone was staying calm, large flat teeth could be seen. The creature boasted leathery skin, not scales, and wore nothing but a belt and harness to carry belongings on. Gamora was reminded of the brontosaurus that Peter had pointed out in a scanned book earlier, when they were first discussing the Saurians. With a total lack of subtlety, Lylla leaned further and further to the side until she was at a steep and poorly-balanced angle, just to see that yes, this creature did indeed have a short, thick tail. She let out a startled 'meep!' when something fast moved behind the large and placid Saurian.

"You accept face-value too easily, Groth!" The hissing voice came behind the brown-skinned burly creature, who sighed and rolled those seemingly-placid eyes, shaking its… his? head. Around the brontosaurian came a small and sleek Saurian that looked designed for running down prey, with wicked scythe-like single claws on each foot that tapped against the decking agitatedly. But most distinct was--

"It has feathers," Lylla exclaimed, popping upright and doing a little bounce of excitement, paws coming together in front of her belly as though to hold herself back from reaching out to touch them. The smaller Saurian did indeed have feathers, most mottled grays and greens, though a ruff around the top of the neck --a ruff that was raised almost like a frill, surely another sign of agitation-- was streaked with red and yellow. Male, Gamora thought, with bright colors to attract mates. It would fit what she knew of Earth animals.

"Yes," rumbled the one called Groth, looking patiently down at the raptor-like feathered Saurian. "They surely pose us a dire threat." Even that deep and gravely voice could convey gentle sarcasm quite well. Gamora fought back a lip-twitch that might have turned into a smile.

The raptor stepped quickly to Lylla and bowed forward, long tail lifting to maintain balance. He eyed her from one side and then the other before speaking almost in a hush. "Have the bare-skinned ones trapped you, little mammal? The ones without fur or feathers, they can be a harsh lot." The larger Saurian behind the raptor cleared his… her? throat significantly. "Yes yes, the mixed Saurians are good folk too, but are you enslaved to the green one? We can break you free, mammal."

Lylla's round eyes got larger and larger under the rapid-hissed interrogation by the raptor; she finally turned and looked up at Gamora with absolute bewilderment on her face. Gamora bit back a snicker and sighed instead. "She's not a slave; Lylla is a free… mammal. She has her own ship and can leave when she likes." Both Saurians stared at Gamora suspiciously until Lylla bobbed her head rapidly in a set of dizzying nods, showing agreement.

"Very well," said Groth. "I am Groth, and my excitable companion is Vix." Vix hissed, presumably in greeting. Or maybe a threat. "We come because your… leader? implies that we have things to talk about."

Lylla looked back and forth between the two Saurians; at Vix's sharp curved teeth and dangerous claws, at the heavy bulk of Groth and the flat teeth shown when the creature spoke, and suddenly piped up. "You're Jeleyahns!"

Groth started backward in surprise, while Vix's neck ruff spread out stiffly beneath his head. "How do you know this, small mammal?" The hiss of its.. his? voice was aggressive. "You will tell us what you know of the nest-world!"

"Your leader was correct," spoke Groth calmly after a moment to collect her thoughts. "We do have a great deal to talk about."

* * *

 

The galley seemed exceptionally crowded with all the Guardians plus two humanoid dinosaurs filling it up. The explanation of why they were out here and what their mission was with the Sphere didn't take long, but the two Saurians bombarded them with questions until every last forgotten bit of information from Jeleyah Prime had been recovered. 

"It has been so long since any of our kind have seen home," Vex said in his softly hissing voice. "I am surprised to learn the buildings all still stand. I wonder why the Herbivores worked so hard to drive us away if they were just going to leave the city sitting empty."

"Harrying." Rocket looked up from a whispered conversation with Groot, who sat in his pot in front of the Raccoon. Everyone glanced toward him expectantly. "They didn't want the planet. They wanted you running. Constantly. Drives morale down, ya'see, and tensions up. Makes ya suffer."

Quiet descended over the table, a quiet filled with threads of horrified realization that Rocket was probably right. It was the only reason to keep chasing the Jeleyahns, and it had gone on for generations. How bitter, how spiteful the Herbivores must be to continue doing such a thing long after it was relevant. 

"They are honorless rabble," Drax declared, anger in his blocky features. "They and their ilk need to be struck down."

Groth nodded, though a little hesitantly, perhaps surprised by the enthusiasm of a stranger about their situation. 

In the quiet that followed, Gamora spoke up softly, eyeing the pair of Saurians. "You know why we're after the Sphere, and what we intend to do with it. Why are you after it? What will you do with all those weapons?"

Both Saurians exchanged a look briefly before Vix answered in that vaguely disturbing hiss of his. "We wish it taken apart. Perhaps there will be things worthy of salvage there, including the Sphere itself, but we want -no, need- it to be disarmed and made no longer a threat."

Groth nodded her head slowly and let out a gusty sigh. "Other Spheres have already been found by the more extreme of the Herbivores… and used. At least one planet has been rendered uninhabitable."

The sorrow in the large woman's voice draws sympathy from Gamora and Lylla, and even a little from Drax, who nods to himself. Peter spoke up after mulling the information over for a moment. "So you want them rendered harmless so there won't be any repeats of planet-killing. We want this particular Sphere taken to Nova Corp and rendered harmless, kept away from those who would misuse it. Our goals are the same; I see no reason why we can't work together."

"But those Herbivores of yours have a helluva head start," Rocket chimed in gruffly. "We're gonna need to book it if we have any hope of catching up to them before they can claim the Sphere; we suspect they have one of the Staffs already." He then frowned, muttering 'staffs' and 'staves' to himself for a moment, trying to decide which one was correct. Not that it mattered; his point was gotten across.

"You mean they may have assembled their own?" In the brontosaur-like female, even alarm sounded slow and languid, but her wide eyes showed that burst of anxiety just fine. "We cannot let them have it! Where did you say it was?" She moved papers and tablets out of the way to expose the star-map that was part of the table, peering down at it. Rocket hopped up to crouch at the edge of the table, fluffy tail dangling down and twitching a bit, and reached out to point at the symbol that marked a nebula.

"Here, last we checked. It's in a large nebula, or at least right at the edge of it." Rocket frowned when the pair of Saurians nodded sagely to each other. "What? What's with the looks?"

Vix made a grating sound that required a moment for people to realize was a snicker, shaking his head, feathers swaying down his neck and over his chest. "That's part of how the Spheres were fueled. They fed off of the ionized gasses in the nebula, essentially eating it. Then that would power the reactor inside, which would 'turn on the sun', and after that it would be pretty much self-sustaining for years before it needed another nebula."

Drax and Peter stared off into space, the technical details putting them in 'bored' mode. If this was important, someone else would fill them in. Groot looked lively, though he wasn't listening either; he appeared to be fascinated by Vix's feathers. Rocket, Gamora, and Lylla were all paying close attention at least, and Lylla spoke up. "If it was parked there, maybe it was low on fuel. But why wouldn't the pilots have refueled and been on their way?"

Groth frowned. "These were multi-generational ships, you understand. It's possible that there weren't any people left on board besides a single pilot, and he left it there so a group could come by and pick it up later."

Vix took up the train of thought. "And apparently, no group returned, so it's possible the pilot never made it back to a nest-world. Or the pilot tried and found it destroyed. Regardless, it's right near its favorite food, which means moving it will be relatively easy."

"Don't count your eggs before they're hatched, Vix," admonished Groth gently. "Something tells me getting the Sphere will be anything but easy."

* * *

 

"Lylla seems to be doing a little better," commented Gamora as the airlock hissed shut behind herself and Rocket. The Guardians had called it a night with the Saurians, and everyone had gone to their respective ships, including Lylla to her Wavedancer and Rocket (with Gamora) to the Second Chance.

Rocket nodded, hopping down the hatch into the living space on the lower deck of his small white luxury ship. He'd have to find creative ways to attach weapons to it before they hauled off to assault the Herbivores. That's what the Raccoon suspected was going to happen; the Herbs had a solid head start and would almost certainly get there before anyone else, so there'd be a battle against them… and potentially the Sphere itself. If the weaponized Sphere was fully active, Rocket intended to counsel retreat. Their lives were more important than getting the Sphere, even if Nova Corps and these Jeleyans thought otherwise. "Probably because there's something to do, and a probable battle to anticipate." 

"I'm glad," Gamora said simply, and it was enough to let Rocket know she'd been worried about Lylla, maybe even feeling a little guilty. But for now, he let the matter pass, nodding agreement before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking off his boots. He leaned back to stretch his legs out, wriggling furry, clawed toes a little as he does so. Gamora chuckled, watching him.

"Funny-lookin'?"

"No, Rocket, just funny."

"Hrmph."

Gamora chuckled again, then started unbuckling her belt and harness. Once it --and the accompanying gun and sword-hilt-- were removed, she carefully set them aside, then began unzipping her black jumpsuit. That took Rocket's attention fully, and Gamora smirked at him as the unzipping revealed the inner swells of her breasts. "Is there something on your mind?"

"…if there was, it's gone now."

She smiled, pleased by what she deems a high compliment, and shrugged out of the top of the jumpsuit so it dangled behind her, baring her to the waist. "It seems we have a few hours at least before we'll reach our destination. Was there anything in particular you wished to do to pass the time?"

Rocket had been thinking of taking a nap, but that --along with all other coherent thoughts-- had gone away with the removal of Gamora's clothing. "Um," he replied intelligently.

Gamora seemed almost smug for having driven the chatty Raccoon with his always-prepared retorts to single syllables. That was something to take great pride in. Defeating Rocket's mouth. 

Rocket smirked a little, still staring at the lovely green-skinned woman as she pushed her jumpsuit down over her hips before letting its own weight drag it to the floor so she could step out of it. The Raccoon was still a little in awe of her, of the fact that they were together like this. It never would have seemed possible a few short weeks ago, yet here they were.

Remembering that he has clothing too, Rocket got up to stand on the bed, removing the various straps and bags that he always wore, then fumbling a little with the zipper. Gamora came over and took the zipper tab with a warm smile and pulled it down for him, so he could shrug out of it and kick it to the floor.

Now that both of them were suitably dressed for bed in nothing, Rocket hopped to the far side of the bed and scooted under the covers, then watched Gamora with anticipation. She moved --gracefully, as always-- to flip the covers on her side back and slid underneath them with a languid stretch. Rocket watched that stretch appreciatively, then moved to cuddle up against her once she had settled, laying his head on her arm and his arm over her stomach. The covers moved oddly as his tail slowly swished beneath them.

Gamora was about to settle in for sleep until she and Rocket had piloting duty, but the Raccoon whispered in the dark, "I hope you don't want to go to sleep already…"

* * *

 

The day had been so full of tensions that Rocket wouldn't have blamed her for wanting to just go to sleep. But everything was still so new, so surprising that he just couldn't get enough of her, and it seemed she felt the same.

The lights stayed off, leaving them both to fumble a bit with each other, but in a way that was erotic by itself. Unseen hands roaming in an exploratory fashion over each other's bodies, groping and rubbing beneath the sheets, building anticipatory arousal to a peak. 

Before he could say or do anything to ease the ache, he felt a sudden shift of weight on the bed, then Gamora's soft hair draped on his chest. He frowned a little in confusion, wondering what she was doing that would have her positioned that way. He wondered only a moment before feeling the hot wetness of her tongue brush teasingly over the top of his hardened cock. It made his breath catch and the Raccoon nearly went limp, letting that breath out in a shaky groan.

Gamora hadn't anticipated sex this evening, but as soon as it was offered, she'd wanted it. Badly. It would be a delightful end to a long and complicated day. She had the urge to turn the light back on so she could not only see him, but see what she was doing, but… 

It was different in the dark. Hesitant touches became caresses filled with surprise, making the skin feel more sensitive with the anticipation of contact. Little gasps and heavy breaths seemed louder and more urgent without any light, raising arousal quickly enough that Gamora was startled by it.

Needing to do something to pull a pleasurable reaction from him, she rolled over and sat up on one hip, then curled forward, her long hair sliding against the fur of his belly. She dipped her head and flicked her tongue over the tip of his dick, making him groan. The sound aroused her more, made her want to encourage more such reactions from him, and she knew how to do it.

Ignoring her own arousal that had her getting slick for the moment, she curled up so she'd be able to hold the position a while, then started to slowly lick up and down the underside of his rod, using just the tip of her tongue and the caress of warm breath that cooled the line of wetness left behind by her licks. Her lips curved in an unseen wicked smile; she would very much enjoy tormenting him this way for a while. Maybe she could even make him plead for more.

Besides, this let him enjoy his cock more. It was smaller than she was used to, proportionate to his body so that he was a little big for his species, but it was long enough to hit the right spots during love-making. The almost sphere-like tip was so tender and responsive to touch that a single lick of her tongue would make his dick twitch, lifting up as if trying to get more of that touch. And Rocket hadn't been lying; he could keep going for a long time, which was something Gamora hadn't really expected. She was used to wearing out men until they just had to lay limp on the bed, but Rocket would just change to a different position. It made sex much more delightful, having a partner that could keep up.

After long minutes of just licking in that teasing fashion that had Rocket squirming, Gamora tilted her head to take the tip into her mouth, pursing her lips tightly at the top of the shaft and giving a sudden, firm suck that had her lover gasping and gripping the sheets. She could taste the salty slickness of the bead of pre-cum that got licked before it could drip down the head; it turned her on to learn that he was already that aroused. She really wasn't sure how much more she could take, herself; hearing his gasps and low moans was really elevating her arousal. But she still wanted to hear him ask for more…

Moaning softly, an involuntary sound that transferred vibrations to the tip of his cock and made him whine, she tilted her head to get the right angle and moved lower, taking the length of his dick into her mouth inch by inch, until the head brushed the back of her throat. It made him moan louder into the darkness, a sound that made Gamora shudder in anticipation. Sucking lightly on the hardened flesh that filled her mouth, she started to bob her head a little, feeling his paws tangle in her hair and lightly press against the back of her head. She took the encouragement of the pressure and dipped a little lower, taking the spherical tip of his dick into the tighter clutch of her throat.

Rocket gasped loudly, back arching as Gamora went even lower. It took nearly everything he had to resist pushing harder, forcing her down on his dick. He didn't think Gamora would necessarily mind, but he wanted her to do whatever she was inspired to do without guidance. Besides, what she was doing on her own was amazing. Moaning low in his throat, a sound tinted with a faintly thrumming growl, he stroked his clawed fingers through her thick hair, letting the nails scrape along her scalp lightly. As in control of himself as he was, he couldn't stop his own body; his hips shifted upward and down in a slow and steady rhythm, just a little, and Gamora moaned as soon as he did it.

He wished she was positioned differently. As it was, she was sitting in a curled pose near his hip; the only part of her he could really grab at was her shoulder. He wanted to pleasure her as she pleasured him, but the position didn't allow it. And Rocket thought that was rather intentional. She was such a tease.

Lacking the ability to return the favor -- yet, at least -- he contented himself with laying back and enjoying the way she moved, the heat of her mouth, the clutch of her throat. It felt incredible, and if she kept it up this way, he was sure not to last much longer. Not that he couldn't simply start over again. And the pleasure was only making his arousal rise higher and higher; he wanted to fuck her so badly, but she stayed out of reach. 

Her head started to bob a little faster; he felt her tongue swipe at the little trickle of pre-cum that was dripping from the slit at the tip of his dick. It made him start panting and squirming, that intense want getting stronger. He wouldn't be able to take this forever and he knew it. He ached for her, urgently wanted to take her, to feel her cum. "G-Gamora," he whispered, voice thick with lust. "Enough.. can't take it. I wanna fuck you.."

Those words were music to her ears; Gamora was thrilled that he finally asked. But she wasn't going to just give him what he wanted, not yet. She wanted something too, and she was close to getting it. Moaning loudly around his cock, she started bobbing faster, sucking harder, swallowing every time his rod was in her throat to squeeze it in a ripple. Rocket responded by moaning and jerking, clawing at the covers as his back arched. He hadn't been lying; he really couldn't take any more. With a low growl that came through gritted teeth, he gripped the covers tightly and thrust his hips upward, burying his cock in her mouth and down her throat.

That thrust wasn't comfortable, but a little discomfort was worth making him so desperate to fuck. And finally, Gamora got what she wanted. She felt his cock throbbing against her tongue, then the splash of hot cum at the back of her throat. Eagerly, she sucked hard on his dick, keeping the twitching flesh in her throat, rubbing her tongue along the underside as though to milk him for all he's got. Breathless and aching, she drank down the ropes of sticky cum each pulse of his cock sent into her mouth until her arching, squirming lover dropped back onto the bed and lay still, aside from the harsh panting of his breath.

Gamora straightened and lay back with a contented sound, lips a little puffy from all the friction, dark hair mussed.. but that didn't matter; in the dark, she was as beautiful as Rocket wanted to picture her. After taking several moments to catch her own breath, she purred, "Now you can fuck me."

Rocket wasted no time.

Darkness meant feeling his way around, and he took his time doing it. Paws squeezed her firm breasts, tugged at her nipples, roamed down her stomach. They skirted out to the sides when they came to her hips, intentionally avoiding the temptation to dip between her thighs, much to her whining dismay. It made him chuckle softly, knowing how worked up she'd gotten working him up. But a phenomenal blowjob deserved thorough attention in return.

Eventually, after making her squirm a little with his roaming hands, he got between her thighs, spreading her legs apart to make room for him. Once there, he got down on hands and knees and started licking at her smooth and slightly slick labia, taking his time and occasionally letting his teeth graze over tender flesh. 

"I want you to fuck me, not tease me!" Under other circumstances, Gamora might be embarrassed to have that much neediness in her voice.

"Patience."

Gamora had little of that left, but she huffed and lay back to let him continue taunting her with that clever tongue of his.

Rocket rather enjoyed going down on her; to him she smelled musky and sweet at the same time, and her flavor matched her scent. Thoroughly enjoying himself, he pushed his tongue inside her in little thrusts that let him lap at her G-spot, making her quiver and twitch. If he can make her climax before getting to what they both want, all the better, though Rocket isn't sure he can wait that long; he doesn't have a lot of patience left either.

In the end, he can't wait long enough to bring her over the edge with nothing but his tongue. Instead, he gets up to his knees, one paw lightly stroking his rigid cock, and rubs the head over her clit, pleased to hear Gamora moan low in her throat in response. He loves the sounds she makes; they always seem so incredibly erotic to him, always encouraging him to go harder, faster.

At this point, he's teasing himself as much as he's teasing Gamora. With a shaky breath, he shifts the grip on his cock to guide the head down to the warm wetness of her entrance, then slowly starts to push himself in. Rocket is startled by how sensitive he is; between his own teasing and that amazing blowjob, even the first thrust sends little shocks down his spine. The way she moans seems to make it even more intense.

Her pussy squeezes his cock so tightly at first that he has to work to push all the way in, but once he's hilt deep, her slippery wetness makes it easy for him. At first, he only pulls out a little, then shoves back in hard enough to jolt her, make her breasts jiggle and sway, and he'd be happy to go at her this way the whole time. It's a straight and easy angle and it lets him stay buried deep inside, rubbing the so-sensitive head against her clinging walls. But he knows she's going to want more than that, so he enjoys himself greedily for the moment knowing that soon he's going to have to give her more than an inch or two of thrust. Not that he minds.

The soft fur of Rocket's stomach rubbing up against her clit each time he grinds against her is an arousing sensation by itself, but it's hard to focus on the subtleties when one is so aching and filled with need. He's worked her up so hard that her lust feels like a fever spreading through her sprawled body, a dam about to burst. Shuddering, she claws at sheets that will eventually be ripped if they keep this up, panting for breath. "Harder!" She makes no effort to keep her moaning demand quiet; they've got the little ship to themselves and they can be as loud as passion makes them.

He pulls back further and starts fucking her in long, quick strokes. No more grinding, just a hard pounding, just like she'd wanted. She arches, shoulders and hips on the bed while her back lifts up, and cries out raggedly as climax crashes down on her. Breath stops, caught in her throat as she writhes and clutches at the sheets, everything going white while she loses herself to the pure, tingling pleasure.

Rocket growls low in his throat as he feels his lover's tunnel squeeze him tight just before flooding with musky nectar that drips out to soak his fur, upper lip curling to bare his teeth. He starts fucking her harder, grasping her by the hips, determined to draw out her orgasm and hit his own. 

Before she's done writhing, he's calling out her name in a shaky, harsh voice, claws digging into green skin nearly hard enough to draw blood, which seems to increase her pleasure. His cock throbs and twitches inside her as spurts of sticky jizz fill her tunnel and mingle with her own juices.

Moments seem to stretch out in their shared climax, and then Gamora drops flat to the bed with a huff and a low moan while Rocket bends forward a little at the waist, bracing himself with his paws to either side of Gamora's curvy hips, panting for breath. Fondly, Gamora reaches down to pet behind one of Rocket's pointed ears, enjoying the rub of soft fur, making the Raccoon let out a purr-like sound of enjoyment.

Reluctantly, he pulls back, cock starting to soften and slide back into the sheath. Gamora whines in soft protest, then chuckles and pats the mattress beside her. "Sleep. Something tells me that we will be having a busy day tomorrow."

* * *

Uneventful time passed, or at least it did for Rocket and Gamora. Lylla was having a fine time chatting up their new Saurian friends, engaging in animated discussion about the things she'd read compared to how things really had been and were now. She learned quite a bit.

The Jeleyahns had left the Carnivore versus Herbivore conflicts behind on their home planet, settling on Jeleyah Prime, and that was when the Sphere building began. Rocket had been correct; the main cities there had been laid out to confuse or box in enemy forces. Once two Spheres had been built, colonists were sent aboard them to travel to other corners of the galaxy and take new worlds; not putting all one's eggs in one's basket was the philosophy behind the colonizing. 

In time, as peace reigned on Jeleyah, more Spheres were built and sent out on their missions, bristling with weaponry in case whichever one of the warring Saurians decided to stick their snouts into business that was no longer theirs. And it wasn't long before the Jeleyahns discovered who the winners had been; Herbivores began making test-run attacks against the planet. The attacks were thwarted by the Sphere that orbited Jeleyah, but Rocket had been right about harrying. Attacks of various sorts continued at a steady pace, making sure the residents of Jeleyah never really knew peace anymore.

It seemed likely that the Sphere the Guardians were approaching might have been one of the last to depart Jeleyah; as attacks from the Herbivores slowly rendered the planet barely habitable, the residents had decided to use their Spheres like giant escape pods, to travel elsewhere and begin anew if they could.

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

Gamora looked over her shoulder long enough to glare at Peter while Rocket hissed a brief snicker between sharp teeth.

"No, seriously… how much longer 'til we're at the nebula?" Peter was sprawled in the Captain's chair, chin in hand, looking as though death from boredom might be a realistic possibility. 

"Less than an hour," replied Gamora, who had been having to answer that question at least half a dozen times since the Milano had resumed course toward the Sphere, accompanied by the Jeleyahn's ships. 

Two sets of footsteps approached the bridge, one ponderous and heavy, the other a light pitter-patter that announced Groth and Lylla shortly before they came into view and stopped near the Captain's chair. Vix had returned to his own ship once courses had been set, and Groth had been left behind to assist with the Staff and any technical issues that might come up.

"You really call it Staff of the Hierophant?" At Lylla's nod, Groth chuckled, a low and rumbling sound. "We just called them 'keys'. They simply hold the last bits of data needed to start the power-up sequence. Once they're plugged in, all the automated systems start up. Though in retrospect, we shouldn't have made the keys interchangeable."

"How many Spheres were there?" Lylla was always a curious creature, thought Rocket, who was half-listening to the conversation as he piloted the Milano.

"Oh, goodness. It's hard to say. Some records state thousands, but that is yet another misdirection on the part of our ancestors. I would say less than fifty were sent out, perhaps even as few as twenty."

"Would that have been enough to evacuate the population?" Lylla's muzzle scrunched up in thoughtful uncertainty.

"You didn't see this thing," interjected Peter. "It was like a smallish moon. If the entirety of the interior surface is habitable, that would be plenty of space." Groth nodded her agreement and Lylla's muzzle unscrunched. 

"So… when we get it, what are we going to do with it?"

Peter frowned a little at Lylla's awkward question, giving Groth a sidelong look. "What are we going to do with it? I want Nova Corps to deal with it and disarm it… you just said you wanted it disarmed. Would your people be okay with handing it over to the Corps to be handled?"

Groth tilted her head, large and docile eyes staring blankly for a moment as she thought about it. "As long as we're --the Jeleyahns-- are allowed access to it for the historical significance and retrieving items belonging to our people, I see no problem with it being disarmed and held by another group."

Much easier than Peter could have hoped; he'd been sure there'd be days of arguing over who got to take the Sphere where. Convenient that both groups really wanted the same thing in the end; Nova Corps would be pleased to take possession of the Sphere and disarm all the weapons systems. Once that was done, the Sphere would simply be an item of historical significance, maybe even something that could be turned into a museum of sorts for the Jeleyahns. 

"How long until we get there?" piped up Lylla in typical curiosity. She then shrank back a little when Gamora responded with a low grumble.

Rocket snickered again, hissing through his teeth, and shook his head. "Little under an hour, judging by the last time that question was asked." Realizing now why Gamora had grumbled, Lylla gave a tiny, slightly hesitant chuckle before turning her attention to the window, looking out at the starscape as if she'd be able to see the Sphere from here.

* * *

That hour went by quick; soon enough they were approaching a nebula that looked as though pink and purple paint had been spilled on a black canvas and swirled around. But even from a distance, something seemed… wrong.

"It's smaller," muttered Peter.

"Say what now?" Rocket turned partway in his seat to peer at the human.

"The nebula. It's smaller than when we left the Sphere before."

Rocket turned back in his chair and squinted at the nebula, trying to see what it was that Peter saw; after so much space travel, one nebula looked the same as any other to the Raccoon. But he did see something more worrying. "We're not the only ones here."

Brow furrowing, Gamora started punching in codes at her console to get sensors properly up and running to detect whatever it was that Rocket thought he saw, though she's hardly surprised. The other Saurians had been well ahead of them; they likely got there hours ago.

But if that was the case, why were they still there?

"He is correct, there are a good dozen ships near that nebula," Gamora calmly said, peering down at the screen on her console. "And from the energy readings, it seems like there's a fight."

"But what about the Sphere?" Groth had one worry: the Sphere. If there was a fight, the Sphere was in danger… or in danger of being used.

Gamora shook her head, then pushed an errant lock of red-tipped brown hair back from her face. "Seems fine, and it's not moving… but I'm getting power readings from it."

"That's why the nebula looks smaller!" Peter sat up from his slouched posture, peering intently at the distant scene through the window, a scene that they were approaching quickly. "The Sphere must have eaten some of it."

Before Peter could finish his second sentence, Groth was nodding in confirmation. "Which means that someone with a Key has boarded it. It will take a while to power up; hopefully it will be some time before the weapons systems can be operational."

That made a grim silence fill the bridge as the Guardians plus guests stared out the window at a battle that was getting closer and closer. Finally, they were within visual range, and Groth sighed. "Those are Herbivore vessels; it appears they wish to lay claim to another Sphere. But who are they fighting?"

"Kree," said Gamora and Rocket together, prompting a groan from Starlord.

"We can't fight off Kree and Herbivores at the same time!" As if the lonely Milano and a few Jeleyahn vessels would stand a chance being so outnumbered by either side of this apparent conflict; each opponent seemed to have a good dozen ships.

"We will have to wait until a winner is known, and then we will battle them for the Sphere," Drax said, rolling his broad shoulders as if preparing for an actual physical fight.

"Well… we have the Milano, and your six ships," Peter said with a glance at Groth. "If they damage enough of each other's ships, we might be able to take on the winner. Bu those Kree ships probably have your Herbivores outgunned." Groth muttered something about them not being her Herbivores, but nodded grimly.

But it all happened too fast for any plan to work. All of a sudden, the Kree overpowered their opponents, marked by several explosions of Herbivore ships. Then the rest of the Kree vessels --each armed to the teeth-- moved to take up position by the Sphere… and then they and the Sphere jumped away.

"No!" Groth's eyes were wide with alarm, then turned toward Peter. "These Kree. What would they use the Sphere for?"

"Nothing good and everything bad," responded Peter with a heavy sigh. "We'll have to chase them down; Gamora, can you figure out where they went?"

"Working on reading their jump coordinates now. Looks like they programmed in at least six jump spots, so this will take a bit, but I can find out."

"Hey?" Rocket leaned forward in his chair, squinting at the screen.

"Is the Sphere weapons-ready or does that take time to power up?"

Groth looked at Peter and shook her head. "Thankfully, it takes time. If we give chase soon enough, we should arrive before they can activate them."

"Hey…" Rocket spoke up a little louder.

"The Kree must not be allowed to have such a weapon," Drax said. "They will likely turn it on Nova Corps almost immediately, assuming they do not have softer targets waiting."

"Hey!"

Finally, with the shout, everyone dropped their conversations to look with irritation at Rocket -- who raised an arm and pointed toward the forward window, where multiple damaged-but-operative Herbivore ships were closing rapidly. "Company."

That got everyone's attention.

"What, are we supposed to take on the losers now?" Peter rubbed his temples as though soothing a headache.

"I am Groot."

"Doesn't matter if it's a fair fight or not, Groot," replied Rocket. "They might be outnumbered and damaged, but if they decide they wanna fight, we're gonna hafta fight back."

"Mammalian ship," a growling voice crackled through the comm system. "You are accompanied by our enemies. Surrender and you will be allowed to live."

"Charming," sighed Gamora.

"Reptilian ships," countered Peter. "You are barely moving and you lost a Sphere to the Kree. Land on the nearest habitable rock so we can discuss matters, or become space scrap."

Starlord was never inclined toward diplomacy.

Long moments of quiet met Peter's declaration before that growling voice came over the comm again. "Very well. As long as your… Mixed," he said in a tone of disgust, "Come and land as well. We'll not have them chasing after the Sphere to use it against us!"

Lylla and Groth exchanged sidelong looks to which the Saurian replied with a shrug. "Far as I know, no one has used a Sphere against the Herbivores. I could be wrong, but I doubt it."

"They sound like fanatics," Rocket said grimly. "'Truth' is a malleable concept to fanatics."

"Or they could just be lying," suggested Drax, to nods around the room. 

"Whichever it is… Peter, what do you intend to 'discuss' with these people?" Gamora turned until she sat sideways in her chair, one arm hooked around the tall back, and crossed long legs. "Something tells me they're not going to be… amenable."

"They can be amenable or not. If not, we leave them idling on the planet hoping their ships can get up and go enough to break atmosphere. If so, we might have allies in taking the Sphere back from the Kree."

"What about after?" Lylla piped up, her paws moving in a hand-washing motion, displaying her nervousness about the whole matter. And she could hardly be blamed for that, given the circumstances. 

Rocket busied himself with piloting their ship toward the nearest rock with an atmosphere, which happened to be a small moon. It was as good a place to put down as any, and he signaled the other ships, friendly and questionable, toward a good landing area. 

Rocket was unhappy. Meeting up with these clearly bigoted Saurians was a bad plan, in his mind; such people could only be dangerous, to them. Maybe to the Kree as well, but they'd all just watched the Herbivore's get their tailed assess handed to them in that fight. Adding their numbers to the Milano and the small fleet of Mixed Saurians would only barely make a difference. Rocket had to admit to himself, though, that 'barely' was sometimes everything.

Lylla, on the other hand --or paw-- seemed incredibly anxious and unhappy at the idea of meeting these Saurians. Rocket knew why; while they'd yet to run into any Saurians that had the same look as Lord Dyvyne, the Saurian toy-overlord who had tried to force her into an unwanted marriage, Lylla was clearly waiting for it to happen. There was no chance of Dyvyne still being alive, but the memories Lylla had of the creature had to have her on edge. Unfortunately, Rocket couldn't think of anything to say or do that would ease her mind, so she was just going to be tense. At least she wouldn't have to get off the ship and meet with any of them; the normal Milano crew could take care of that.

"After," muttered Peter, who had given this particular concept zero thoughts at all. So he just made things up. "The goal of the meeting is to see if these Herbivores are as hostile as they seem; if they are, we should probably take them out. But if our goals align, we can all team up to take the Sphere back from the Kree."

"Imagine angry hissing and fluffed feathers if you would," said Groth, "Because that's what would be coming from Vix if he were here."

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Peter asked almost hopefully.

"…alas, no."

"Than random Starlord plan it is!" Rocket said just as they slowed for their landing. A gentle thump sound was felt more than heard came from the craft's landing gear touching down on a planet with breathable atmosphere and absolutely no other selling points.

Gamora got up, adjusting the belt that held gun and collapsible sword. "That is how we operate, it seems."

* * *

The moon was about as appealing as it had looked on the sensors: Blank gray landscape with some scrubby weeds struggling in dry soil, and nothing else. Nothing to distract from the delicate negotiations that were falling apart nearby.

"They cannot be trusted," hissed Vix in vexation, the frill around his neck extending a bit, yellow and red feathers fluttering in the cautious breeze. "We all know what you strict Herbivores would like to see happen to us!" If glares could kill, there'd be the beginnings of an archeological dig forming up in front of the Carnivore, but the Herbivores seemed to just ignore him. Much as they'd ignored the entirety of the Jeleyahns since landing on this suddenly-more-exciting rock.

Groth stood with the gathered mass of Guardians + Lylla, so she at least got looked at for extended periods of time. Or maybe that was just a courtesy granted to an herbivore from an Herbivore. Rocket wasn't sure which; he was much more focused on Vix. That raptor was going to explode any minute now, and whether it would be in bloody bits or in flashing claws and fangs was anybody's guess. He'd open a betting pool, but he figured at this point the humor of the gesture would be lost on everyone.

"What we'd like to see happen to you Mixed lots is irrelevant at this juncture," said a large and heavy-set humanoid with a short curved horn between the brows and two more longer horns extending forward from the area of the temples. The words were spoken in tired boredom, as if the Mixed it referred to were hardly worth notice, much less concern. Definitely a calculated insult. 

Intending to fix the problem, Rocket sauntered over toward Vix, eyeing the tri-horn. He elbowed the raptor in a conspiratory manner and Vix lowered his head to be closer to the Raccoon. "I don't know much 'bout these Herbivores," he murmured just loudly enough to be sure the tri-horn would hear, "But what's he compensating for?"

Vix blinked, and then his feathers fluffed up as he hissed his laughter along with Rocket, and the Raccoon guided the Raptor back a little, away from center stage so he could regain his calm. Assuming Vix actually had any calm. It was beginning to seem like he left it on his other planet.

"Look, the-" Peter heaved a sigh as arguments in other languages surpassed his normal speaking volume. "Guys!" Still, gabble of voices all wanting to be heard first. 

"I AM GROOT!"

Silence.

"Thank you." Peter nodded to the potted plant Drax was carrying. He strongly suspected it was the abrupt realization that their mascot plant could talk at all that caused the silence rather than the admittedly impressive volume.

Turning his attention back to the somewhat pathetically small number of Herbivores before him, Peter considered their situation. Defeated quite soundly by the Kree, they were outnumbered two or three to one against the Jeleyahns alone, and none of their ships were unscathed. He wasn't entirely certain why he wanted to bother with them at all, except a niggling feeling that something was off. He didn't like it when things that might affect his people were off.

"Look, the Kree kicked your collective plant-eating asses. You go after them, you'll be fossil fuel. You team up, you at least get to see that the Kree don't get to keep the Sphere."

"And neither do you," Gamora adds, wanting to be crystal clear on that point. "It is to be rendered harmless and secured by Nova Corps, so it won't be a danger if it happened to fall in the hands of-" 

"The Kree, for example," finished Rocket as he walked up to the group, standing close beside Gamora. She idly rubbed her fingertips back and forth between his ears, and Rocket barely kept himself from purring at the sensation. This was cunning and fierce negotiation-time; he couldn't afford to look too cuddly. "Maybe not the worst people in the galaxy, but on the top ten list."

The tri-horn, still looking both confused and miffed, squinted at Rocket. "We know not of these Kree. What are they likely to do with armaments such as this Sphere sports?"

"Eh.. Explosions, enslavement, the occasional genocide."

The tri-horn blinked at the bluntness, then eyed Groth suspiciously. "Does this small mammal speak truly? Have you learned of these Kree?"

Groth nodded, staring back at the tri-horn with equal suspicion. "I have. And to my knowledge, they speak truth. These Kree are inherently violent, including among themselves, and they seem to seek war out even when there's no particular gain." Groth, being diplomatic, pretended not to notice when the tri-horn gave a disgusted sideways glance toward the small gathering of Jeleyahns, specifically at Vix and the other Carnivores, perhaps implying that the Kree weren't the only ones inherently violent.

Peter, being diplomatic, cleared his throat. "Hey, Petrol. Either you leave your bias right here on this nothing of a moon, or we leave you on this nothing of a moon. Your choice."

Not wishing to be stranded on this nothing of a moon, the Herbivores made the intelligent choice.

* * *

"So what's the plan?" Rocket walked along next to Peter back to the Milano along with everyone else returning to their ships.

"We take the Sphere and use it against the Kree."

Rocket paused in his steps long enough to need a quick scamper to catch up. "It's a good end of plan.. what's the beginning?" A few of the Herbivores, listening to the conversation, glanced at each other as though wondering if this was really a good idea or not.

"We get in behind the Sphere, get inside and get rid of the Kree there --there ought to be only a few, since they'd need to fly all their fighters back-- and take over the Sphere, use it against the Kree."

"What about our ships?" Spoke up a Herbivore with a duck-billed appearance.

"Have you seen your ships? Might as well just scrap 'em," replied Rocket, and while the Herbivores looked annoyed at the small mammal, they didn't disagree. "Can make your ships useful, put 'em on auto and send 'em past the leading Kree as a distraction. I can mess with 'em, make it look real, give 'em something to chase."

The duck-billed Herbivore considered this for a long moment. "The Sphere will be slow. It had time to charge up in that nebula, but it has been defunct for a very long time; much of the inner workings will be non-functional. If we Herbivores all ride one to a Jeleyahn ship," and he almost managed to conceal his disgust, "We can be part of the boarding party. After this is done, we can be dropped off somewhere to call for a ride home."

"What did you want with the Sphere, anyway?" Peter glanced over his shoulder at the semi-talkative Herbivore. He really didn't expect an answer, much less an honest one, so he was surprised when the duck-bill responded.

"We wished it neutralized as well."

Groth and Vix both scoffed.

"No, truly." The duck-bill glanced with narrowed eyes at the nearby Jeleyahns. "An …extremist group has begun taking root in our society. They want the Spheres; we can't let them have the Spheres. If you're going to dismantle it, fine by us."

"And what does this extremist group want?" Gamora had been listening quietly, but there was something about this that didn't seem quite right. She couldn't put her finger on it.

The duck-bill shook his head almost sadly. "They wish to eradicate those not like them."

Vix's frill popped up in a flare of red and yellow feathers and he snarled, "That's what you all want! That's what you've been trying to do to us and the Carnivores for centuries!"

The duck-bill managed a growl sound that raised Rocket's hackles and made a cutting off gesture with one hand that had hints of webbing between the fingers. "No! All that are not like them. Not just Carnivores or Mixed, but all others as well!"

That was shocking enough to the Jeleyahns that both Groth and Vix were taken aback, quiet and wide-eyed. Finally, Groth spoke. "All? Mammals, birdfolk, crystalline creatures, all?" The duck-bill quietly nodded.

"We must be certain to get this Sphere and destroy it, Starlord," hissed Vix, frill still twitching a little even after it was lowered and pressed close to his neck and chest again. "If there is a group like this --and the Herbivores would certainly be the right group to spawn one," Vix added with disgust that had the duck-bill making that growling sound again, "They must never get their hands on a Sphere. They will likely start with their own kind and work their way outward to other races, other creatures."

"That's the plan, my man," said a jovial Peter, to the bafflement of all Saurians in the area. Gamora shook her head; Peter and Rocket always seemed to get peppy right before a job, but this job might not have room for pep.

They got back to the parked ships and Rocket dragged his tool-kit out of the Milano, scampering off to tinker with the Herbivore vessels. With a little time and some clever re-wiring, he could make the ships appear occupied, even make them fly by remote to give their movements a feel of reality. Even with how damaged they were, the Kree would be distracted and send at least some of their small force after the ships, trusting that the Sphere would be deterrent enough for anyone else. They probably hadn't planned on someone boarding and stealing the Sphere. Then again, the Guardians had barely planned on it either; it looked like it was another job for winging it.

With great reluctance and barely-concealed disgust all around, some Jeleyahns were separated from their two-man ships and brought aboard the Milano, their old places being taken by Herbivores to be part of the boarding party. Both the Second Chance and the Wavedancer were too small to be comfortable for any of the Saurians to ride in, much less pilot, and so they would be tethered in tow while Rocket piloted the Milano and Lylla waited in her ship to make use of the stealth capabilities in case they were needed for distraction. Everyone else (except Groot) would be boarding the Sphere and seeking out the Herbivore extremists for a melee that would give the Guardians control of the Sphere.

As far as plans went, it wasn't bad. Of course, plans don't always work out.

* * *

Things were going according to plan, if 'plan' wasn't too strong a word for it. The Kree, confident after their victory, weren't paying much attention to anything but leading their newly-acquired Sphere back to wherever mothership the fighters called home. It was easy to hide behind the Sphere as it slowly moved along, ponderous from sheer size; it really was like hiding on the dark side of a small moon.

Except now that small inert 'moon' had spin; gravity would be being generated within from that spin, and the 'food' of the half-consumed nebula would be powering the lights at least a little on the inside.

Carefully, Rocket scanned the area beneath them for a place to set down, or better yet, a port to go through. Preferably one designed for the passage of a small ship rather than a plasma vent or some such. Thus far, though, he had nothing and he was grumpy about it.

Attempting to soothe him, Gamora lightly scritched between his ears, standing beside his chair and looking at the surface of the Sphere that she could see through the ship's windows. Rocket made a reluctant purring sound at the pleasant contact, then heaved a sigh. "I give u-"

A thump interrupted Rocket's declaration of surrender as Lylla scampered up on his other side and flopped a roll of heavy paper down, obscuring his console. He was about to let some of that frustration go with a scolding he'd likely regret later when he realized she was pointing to something specific. He squinted, lowering his head to get a better look and read the fine print. "Docking." Turning his head, he flashed a pointy-toothed grin at Lylla. "Well if that's not perfect.. wait. Is it on this side of the damn thing?"

Lylla chuckled and nodded. "Wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't, Rocket. You know me better than that."

Of course Lylla was right, but more important, Lylla seemed just fine being up close to him while Gamora was petting between his ears affectionately. Perhaps the emotional storms had finally blown over and no one would have to walk on eggshells anymore.

"That I do." He traced one claw along the path of 'landmarks' he could follow until he reached the spot just under them. Now able to follow a set of lines between easily identified points, he rolled the schematic back up and handed it to Lylla --rolled up that way it was nearly as tall as she was-- and started carefully navigating his way toward the area. "Lylla found us an entry point. If I can crack whatever code it uses, anyway."

Silence was on the bridge for a moment. 'If'? Rocket was always confident in his ability to get through pretty much any machine. Peter frowned. "'If'?"

"Kidding. Sheesh."

"Oh," said Peter.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"No, Groot, you have to stay here and play lookout, sound the alarm if any of those cruisers decide to come back here and check out the ass end of their bowling ball."

"I am.. Groot.." The plant heaved a sigh, looking pitifully at Rocket.

"Sorry buddy."

An anticipatory quiet came over the bridge as Rocket guided the Milano toward the port. When it came into view, Rocket nodded to himself. "Big port. Probably designed for cargo vessels."

"Yes," came the now-familiar voice of Groth at the rear of the bridge. "Many of the Spheres had a certain amount of land inside dedicated to growing crops or raising herds. Each Sphere would specialize in one thing, and trade between each other. Or that had been the plan, at least."

"Any idea what the layout of this place will be? Cuz.. we're going in here. How close is 'here' to important stuff, like piloting and weaponry? They'll be the most likely place any Kree on board would go."

Groth chewed on her wide lower lip with large, flat teeth for a moment as she considered, then shrugged. "Piloting should be right around docking. Weaponry could be anywhere."

"What about environmental systems?" Lylla perked up, apparently having an idea.

"I could probably find that equipment fairly quickly once inside," cautiously said Groth. "…why?"

Lylla shrugged. "Forget about the weapons, and hand-to-hand combat, and whatever else. Just send someone in with an environmental suit, shut off life support, and leave. The place is so big that no one would be able to get there in time to turn it back on."

Everyone peered at Lylla, who looked suddenly shy. "What? Only way it fails is if the Kree are in suits too, and then they just assume it's a malfunction. Why not try it the easy way first?"

"Now that is a plan," said Rocket.

* * *

As it turned out, it was indeed a plan. Rocket was able to open up the docking port and take command of those controls with relative ease -- not surprising, given his skill set. Lylla stealthed her ship and flew in for a recon trip, returning with information as to where housing, farming, ship functions, bridge, and weapon station each were. Life signs were reported as ten individuals besides themselves, until Lylla snuck up through the shaft beneath the ship functions station and disabled life support. After that, ten life signs slowly went away to be replaced by ten fading heat signatures. Then Lylla turned everything back on, hopefully before the Kree outside noticed anything change. 

The Sphere was huge. 'Huge' wasn't a grand enough word. Rocket and Gamora stood side-by-side on one of the docking platforms inside, staring up in wonder at the landscape they could faintly see going up all the inside of the Sphere until vision was lost in the dim, pale light of the artificial sun in the center of the massive open space. Rocket inched closer, reaching to take Gamora's hand as they gazed over the incredible view.

It was like looking at a decent sized village painted on the inside of a sphere. Houses and apartments were visible as the Guardians looked out, as well as what appeared to be unplowed farmland in the distance. Industrial buildings in their own zones could be seen along with the simple roads that wound their way through structures and grassy land. Groth had explained that the vehicles would be airborne for the most part, of course. And yet, this culture had still made streets to stroll along between and around the various buildings and sights. It said something good about the culture that built these Spheres.

Most of the Saurians had parted company with the Guardians and each other to go exploring this massive piece of ancient history. It had once been inhabited, as they found out going through the records, but what had happened to the population and crew remained a mystery that had Lylla fidgeting with curiosity. While the Jeleyahns seemed inclined to stick together and explore, the Herbivores split up, saying they wished to find these individual Kree and make certain of their demise before the heat signatures faded.

It wasn't long before the sharp 'pew!' of energy weapons was heard.

* * *

"What fresh nonsense is this?" Inquired Starlord upon hearing the first shot. His gun was already in hand and ready to fire without him even really thinking about it.

"Dammit," said Rocket, giving voice to everyone's sentiment, and scampered up a startled Drax to stand on the big man's shoulders, up on his toes and shading his eyes with one hand against the weak white light of the artificial sun. "Coming from the barracks and weapons bay. Coming closer. Looks like-"

"Herbivores," hissed Vix, who startled everyone by scurrying onto the platform, feathered frill looking a little singed. "They weren't looking for Kree; they were arming themselves!"

"We are so very, very stupid," sighed Rocket.

"Mourn our lack of smarts later, Rocket; arm up now!" Peter tapped the control that brought his mask down to cover his face, wishing for a rocket pack.

The Raccoon grinned wickedly and scampered into the shadows of one of the docking ports. Moments later, he came out dragging a hover-sledge that contained what looked like…

"Is that a cannon?" Gamora stared at Rocket, not knowing why she was so shocked by this totally expectable turn of events.

"Yesss," hissed Rocket, so very pleased. "Help me get it into place."

Drax and Gamora helped arrange the cannon on their platform so they'd be able to reasonably aim it. Two groups were headed their way, the rear group making flashy lights and pewing sounds. Pretty easy to tell which to aim at. As they got closer, the Guardians could make out Groth in the lead of the Jeleyahns, keeping them rallied. "Fire the damn thing already!" Peter was clearly in a hurry to get rid of some of the approaching problems.

Rocket hopped onto the butt of the ship cannon; it was about twice as long as he was tall and designed to go under a fighter ship. The Raccoon had rigged the base to keep it steady and set the hover-sledge down so firing wouldn't send it careening backward. He pulled out a remote and quickly ripped a panel off of the canon casing, tugging some wires and stripping them with his claws before twisting them together with those dangling from the remote. "Boom," he whispered to himself, round dark eyes glinting with glee, and he pushed the remote's red button.

Boom! 

Ears were ringing after the cannon fired some sort of glowing plasma projectile; Rocket had gone flying off the back of the weapon when it kicked and was giggling a few feet away, appearing exhilarated. 

"Well, get back up there!" Peter swiveled to stare at the snickering Rocket, absently aiming his own gun out in the general direction of where the cannon was pointing.

"Can't! It only had one charge."

"Are you kidding me right now? Fuck." Peter turned to Vix and the Guardians. "Start powering up ships. Every ship, get 'em started. When the Jeleyahns get here we can blow this joint."

"But Peter, what about the Sphere?" Gamora didn't object to the orders, but there was a small issue of a large hollow ball.

"Screw it! If the Herbivores had time to arm up, they've had time to work with ship weapons too; if we want to get away at all it's got to be before they've figured out how to tune in proper targeting!"

Gamora didn't question further, just ran --grabbing a still-snickering Rocket along the way-- to go get the small two-person ships of the Jeleyahns powered up while Drax jogged up the Milano's ramp to start up the pre-flight sequences. 

Tense minutes passed as Starlord looked down at the charging Jeleyahns; Groth and the others in the lead were climbing the winding stairs to the platform, but the Herbivores with their fancy new weapons weren't far behind. As they crested the platform, Peter started yelling, "Get to ships, doesn't matter what ship, just get in ships and prepare to get the fuck out of Dodge!" Nobody questioned what 'Dodge' was, just ran to the ships and got in as ordered. 

The last of the Jeleyahns in their ships, Starlord jogged, taking potshots downward as the Herbivores ascended the stairs, then charged up the ramp to the Milano when they started firing back. "Close the ship and get the hell out!"

Apparently someone on the bridge relayed that order; the massive airlock opened for them again and small ships started rushing out like candy falling out of a whacked piñata. The sleek shape of the Wavedancer was first among them, to Rocket's relief. The Milano closed up and Rocket took off, weaving between the smaller ships, but slowly, as though he was herding their Saurian friends out even as some of the Herbivores scrambled for their damaged ships as though to give chase.

* * *

About half an hour had passed, though in their mad dash for safety, it seemed both much shorter and much longer. The Guardians stood together on the bridge where they'd gotten a good show of the Sphere annihilating the Kree ships that had been leading it along; apparently the fleeing Saurians weren't considered enough of a threat to fire on. Either that or they didn't have all the weapons set up yet.

Together, they watched as the huge Sphere seemed to pause in mid-space, glow faintly, and suddenly vanish through a gate that took it.. who knew where. All that effort, only to have the Sphere land in the hands of new enemies.

Rocket piped up with cheery sarcasm. "That's not gonna come back and bite us in the ass."

~ ~ ~

(( Thank you for reading and I hope you've enjoyed my first foray into the world of Fan Fiction. I appreciate all the interest and supportive comments people have left, and in the future I'll work on another story arc.))

~ ~ ~

 

 

 

There was rattling in the darkness, and soft hissing sounds. A clatter came as something was knocked over. Then, light appeared. Two bright yellow lights like eyes staring downward from a height twice as tall as an average human, but what they shone down upon with hostile intellect was not human at all.

"Dyvyne," came the mutter of a metallic voice. "Not who I expected."

"Do not worry, King Toy," hissed the Saurian with his almost cobra-like face. "Soon, we'll both get back what is ours."


End file.
